Boston
by the-black-drop
Summary: SEQUEL TO THE ACADEMY. AU. In 2003, young Olivia and Peter sort out their relationship as Fringe Division sends junior agent Olivia on a dangerous undercover case against ZFT. Includes Walter, Lincoln, Broyles, Charlie, etc. T for violence, sex, drug use
1. New Beginnings

**Here it is! The sequel to The Academy – if you haven't read it yet, go to TA first so this one makes more sense. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy it! **

**Thanks to Asha710 for encouraging me to get this off the ground. **

**God bless**

**The song is La Mar by the Beautiful Girls (who are incidentally an all-male band). They're Australian and played at my uni a couple of months back and were awesome – I had to put them in my story somewhere!**

Peter didn't know what he was feeling. He was on the verge of laughing but at the same time his stomach was in knots. He still couldn't wrap his head around the idea that after four months of being on the opposite end of the planet to her, he was about to have dinner at Olivia's new apartment. There was still about half an hour before he had to meet her, so he sat in a park a few blocks from her place, resting himself on the swing of an empty playground as he listened to his iPod. In it was a playlist of songs he'd listened to a lot while he was in South Africa – songs that often reminded him of Olivia across the distance. He closed his eyes and let the gentle music wash over him as the night chill picked up slightly.

_This day is getting older,  
in fading light it's beautiful.  
This wind is blowing colder,  
and too soon I'll feel its pull.  
Still, I took all my chances,  
earned myself an even score.  
Try to learn my lessons well.  
And I don't have the answers,  
for those questions anymore.  
Only love can be both heaven and hell. _

He smiled to himself wistfully, but there was pain in it. Since being in Boston he'd forgotten how much he'd really missed Olivia over there. After everything they'd survived together in their however-brief relationship, it had still seemed like a damn shame to let it die. But it had to be done at the time – that much was clear. Now things were different. They were suddenly thrown back in the same city and it all happened so suddenly, with Walter getting sick and all, that it was almost unsettling.

_So sturdy up, sturdy up your heart,  
for the road is long ahead.  
I'll be with you even though we're apart,  
but your road is yours to tread.  
And so it goes, and so it goes,  
and so it goes, slows your mind, mind, mind,  
so it goes... and so it goes, and so it goes, slows your mind, mind, mind, mind, mind..._

South Africa was a hard place to live. It was a beautiful country, with mostly kind-hearted people, but Cape Town's criminal underground wasn't really an underground at all. The people he worked with were dangerous, and many nights it frightened him to be surrounded by those people in a country where he had no one to help him in a time of crisis. Four months of putrid bars, violent men and horrid crimes. Four months of feeling nothing but shame at what he'd become and all the good things he'd run away from. He sometimes wondered if things ever went sour on one of their shady deals and he was hurt or worse, would anyone ever even notice he was gone? Would Olivia ever know? That thought alone was as real as any physical pain. And in the same way, being home in Massachusetts with her made him swell with a relief he'd never known before.

When 7pm finally made its close approach, he wandered through the streets back to her place, buying a couple of bunches of Casablanca lilies along the way. He took pause before he knocked on her door, wondering suddenly if the flowers were a bit much. But hey, it was too late to do anything about them now. With a quiet trembling deep in his chest, he took a breath and knocked on her door, comforted by the soft passing of her distinctive footsteps on the other side. When she opened the door he was a little thrown by what he saw. She'd changed out of her work clothes into some pants and a figure-hugging sweater. Her hair had been readjusted into a neater bun and gold earrings and a necklace illuminated her skin. She'd come a long way from the converse-wearing, t-shirt and jeans college girl he'd met in Quantico. She looked surprisingly feminine, older even. It may have only been four months, but Olivia Dunham sure grew up.

She was the first to speak. "Hi."

"Hi."

They stood still for a moment before easing the tension with an awkward laughter and smiling at each other stupidly. "Come in," she finally said, still laughing as she ushered him inside her home. It was warm and cosy, even though half of her and Rachael's stuff was still in boxes. "Sorry about the mess," Olivia said, trying to be polite and not quite knowing what else to say.

She was relieved when he laughed. "Sweetheart, I've been living in the basements of pubs in Cape Town and Jo-berg for the past four months. This is clean."

She blushed a little. There was that word again. 'Sweetheart'. He realised it too, smiling gently. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's just a reflex, I promise."

"It's OK," she said quickly, brushing it off.

Rachael entered from the kitchen and greeted Peter warmly. Suddenly he remembered what he was holding. He chuckled to himself and shook his head to clear it, trying to get a hold of himself. "These are for you both," he said, offering them the bouquets of lilies.

"Thank you, Peter," Rachael beamed. "That's really sweet of you."

"Least I could do," Peter replied, showing off his signature Bishop charm smile.

Olivia just stood dumbstruck, baulking nervously on the inside. "Thank you," she finally managed to say. "You really didn't have to -"

He cut her off with a shake of his head. "I wanted to, Livia."

Rachael excused herself to finish off the food while Olivia and Peter kept talking as she found vases for the flowers. "Are you sure you're going to be alright tonight?"

"Yeah, I have a place to stay."

She nodded, still concerned for him. She sensed that the past four months had been turbulent to say the least. "What do you want to drink?"

"Whatever you're having," he replied.

She went to a wine rack nearby and pulled out a bottle of red, holding it up. "This alright?"

"Sure." He smirked as she opened it up and poured them both a glass. "What, you're not a whiskey girl anymore?" he teased with a grin.

She smiled. "Oh, I am. Just not around my sister. The smell makes her sick. The baby doesn't like it, I guess. She's not even old enough to drink anyway."

"Yeah," he laughed, remembering that Rachael was only 20. He'd totally forgotten for a moment that she was pregnant. She didn't look it – but then again she was only three months along. He smiled at Olivia, taking a sip. "I guess it's comforting for Rachael knowing that the baby doesn't like whiskey. We don't want the baby turning out all alcoholic like its aunt now, do we?" he teased.

She nudged him playfully. "This coming from an ex-bartender? I don't believe it."

"Come on, I just supplied the alcohol but you drank it. You could drink me under the table any day."

"Damn right," she smirked.

He laughed, remembering old times at The Whitehorse as Rachael came back in with the food and Olivia went off to help. Soon enough the three of them sat down to eat, talking about all the things that had changed since Olivia's graduation. "By the way, Rachael," Peter said. "Congratulations on the baby."

"Thank you. Greg and I are really excited."

"Greg's working in Chicago at the moment," Olivia explained. "He comes back in a couple of weeks, so we're living together for now since we had to sell the house and everything."

He knew why they had to sell – but he didn't want to bring up Marilyn's cancer. He didn't know how sensitive Rachael was about the topic, and he could tell it was tearing Olivia to pieces even though she was showing tremendous strength under the circumstances. In the short pause, he noticed how Rachael had subtly dropped her head and Olivia had immediately taken her hand and given her a sad, weak smile. His heart warmed at the sight. One of the things that had always struck him most about Olivia was the fierce protectiveness and sense of duty with which she loved the few people close to her.

"Have you thought of any names yet?" Peter asked, drawing the subject back to the baby. Seeing Rachael smile again as she started explaining what her and Greg were thinking of, Olivia sent him a grateful look which he returned with a look of understanding. The three of them kept talking way into the night until it started getting late.

Rachael yawned. "Sorry guys," she said. "I think I might go to bed. This baby may be tiny, but it's wearing me out."

"You mean 'she'," Olivia corrected.

"We don't know that it's a girl yet, Olivia."

"It's a girl. I can feel it."

"You've got to admit, Rach, she is pretty good when it comes to gut feelings," Peter argued.

"Yeah, yeah, we'll see," Rachael laughed. "It was really good to see you again, Peter."

"Yeah, you too, Rach."

"Goodnight. I love you," Olivia said, giving her sister a kiss on the cheek.

"I love you, too," Rachael replied as she left.

For a moment Olivia and Peter sat in silence. She started to clear the plates and Peter stood, shaking his head and taking them from her. "Let me."

"Peter…"

"Please, I want to help."

She relented, allowing him to help her clean up and wash everything in the kitchen. The silence between them was a mixture of things – but mostly bittersweet. There was a sense of warm nostalgia in it, but more than that, a hesitance about the uncertainty of the future. When they were done cleaning they sat on the couch with a fresh bottle of wine.

"What's the plan for you now?" she asked him tentatively.

"Honestly, I've got no idea. I'm starting to run out of places to go. But South Africa…" He chuckled wryly, and darkness invaded his eyes. "Cape Town was a mistake."

"Peter," she said gently. "What happened to you over there? It was bad, I can tell."

He just shook his head, indicating he didn't want to talk about it. She could see something fracture in his face as he tensed and gathered his thoughts. "I want to start living straight again. I have to. The old life, all the crime and stuff…it's eating me up, Livia. If I keep going that way I'll be dead by the time I'm 30. But all I know is how to run from place to place. I can't go back to that. I know I've got one more run left in me, but I sure as hell don't have one more return. I need to settle somewhere Olivia. I don't care if it's here or wherever else." He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "I don't know. Thinking about Quantico makes me wonder how many times a person can start over."

"Maybe you should stay here. For Walter."

"I don't give a shit about Walter."

"He's your father. He needs you. I know you want to step up, be better. But you need someone to step up for, Peter."

"That used to be you."

"What?"

"In Virginia. You made me want to be a better man. I stayed there to prove that I could be. But it's a different time now."

She nodded, the guilt from how she left him eating away at her stomach. "Do you have friends here?"

"A few. Not many I should be friends with, though. I guess if I'm going to stay I need to find myself a job, maybe start studying again. If I had the money I'd go back to MIT or something. I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Well, you know if you need help I'm here, right? And you're welcome to hang out here if you ever need a place to stay."

He smiled warmly at her, knowing she meant it. "Thank you, but you've got more than enough on your plate right now."

She nodded. "I start probationary field work next week. I'll have a partner and everything."

"Are you nervous?"

"Mostly excited. But Rachael and Mum are worried."

"I can understand that. But I'm not. You were practically born for this job. You're gonna be great, Olivia."

She smiled gently. "Thanks."

He looked at his watch. "It's really late. I should probably go. You've got work in the morning, you should get some sleep."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay? I know you said you have somewhere to go, but still...I have to admit, I worry about you."

He smiled warmly, touched by the gesture. "I'm gonna be fine. Thank you, though." He stood and they walked to the door.

"It was good to catch up," she said.

"Yeah, it was." He hesitated for a moment before pulling her into a hug. It was warm and gentle, but as far as friends went, he was kind of pushing it. Realising this, she tensed a little and he let her go. "Thanks for everything," he said again.

"Let me know if you decide to stay in Boston."

"Of course I will," he said as he left.

Olivia closed the door behind him and ran a hand through her hair. Trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts inside her head, she downed the last of the wine before cleaning away their glasses. Had she really just invited him to stay over? She didn't know what the hell she was thinking. She knew it was stupid trying to restart a friendship with him, but seeing him tonight had brought back all the feelings she'd forgotten. She had enough to deal with right now, between her mum being sick, her sister being pregnant and her work becoming more intense. The last thing she needed was for Peter to be thrown into the mix.

She put her head in her hands. What the hell was she getting herself into?

**Please review!**


	2. First Day

**References: Broyles' ZFT speech (In Which We Meet Mr Jones) and "You're gonna be fine" (Dream Logic)**

Olivia and Charlie had agreed to meet up for breakfast before their first day of work as Junior Special Agents, but he was running late. Olivia nervously fidgeted with anything she could get her hands on. Until today, their internships had just involved shadowing agents and learning how everything worked, and studying so they could learn the specifics of their departments. But now they'd actually be working on probation, with a partner and cases and everything. She was determined to do well and impress her co-workers but she couldn't escape the anxiety that ate away at her stomach.

"You're gonna be fine," a gruff voice said behind her. She twisted her head and smiled as she saw Charlie approach her table in the café and sit down with her.

"You think so?"

"Sure."

"You aren't nervous at all?"

He shrugged. "Maybe a little."

"Liar."

"OK, fine, I'm freaking out just as much as you are. Is that what you want to hear?"

She laughed. "You're gonna be great, Charlie. The CAC1 will really suit you, working with kids and everything."

"I hope so. I'm more worried that my partner's gonna be a dickhead."

"Yeah, I know, right? We'll be stuck with them until the end of our internships, at least."

"What about you, though? On special assignment in Counter-Terrorism - that's got to be fun, right?"

"We'll see. I bet Broyles is gonna be pretty hard on me."

"No-one said this was gonna be easy, Liv. We just have to get through it and do the best we can. Come on, we should start walking over," he said as they stood up, ready to go to the Federal Building.

They wished each other good luck as they went to their separate floors. Olivia went straight to Broyles' office in Fringe Division to meet her new partner. Like Charlie, she hoped it wasn't a dickhead, but more than that, she hoped that she'd be able to impress them and prove herself. When she got there, a young man in a suit was waiting outside. Seeing her approach, he smiled. "Are you Olivia Dunham?"

"Yes."

"I'm Lincoln Lee, you're new partner. Welcome to Fringe Division," he said, extending a hand to her.

She shook it. "Good to meet you, Agent Lee."

He chuckled. "Lincoln's fine. What do you want me to call you?"

"I'm 'Liv' to most people."

"Liv it is, then. So, you ready for this?" he asked as he walked her over to her new desk next to his.

"Ready as I'll ever be. What are we doing today?"

"Well, we have to wait for Broyles to call and assign us a case, so until then it's research and paperwork. Fun stuff, right?"

"Yeah, sure," she replied, chuckling at his sarcasm. They got started but Olivia was really disappointed. She never figured her first day in a department as unusual as Fringe would be so uneventful. That being said, she was glad to have Lincoln as a partner. She definitely could have done worse than him. He noticed her pouring herself into the work and laughed to himself.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing, I'm sorry. You're just taking this so seriously," he teased with a cheeky grin as he span around in his chair out of boredom. "I bet this isn't what you thought your first day would be like, huh? Bet you could barely sleep last night thinking up all the ways you'd impress everybody and prove yourself to Broyles. Am I right?"

She smiled. "I didn't think I was so predictable."

"You're not. But every new junior agent is that way. I was the same. We all think it's going to be crazy intense but nobody tells us it's actually boring a lot of the time. Just like any other job." His phone rang and he answered it, speaking professionally to the person on the other end before hanging up and turning back to Olivia. "Guess what, rookie? You're first day just got more interesting. We caught a fresh one."

"A what?"

"A body, kiddo. Learn the slang. Third murder of this kind in four months, possible serial. She's in the West District. Come on, let's go."

The whole way in his car, Olivia couldn't stop her hands from sweating. She had imagined that her first day would be insane but she never thought she'd catch a murder case. She started to doubt whether she was prepared for all this, but she steeled herself into confidence.

The eventually reached an abandoned building, evidence trucks already outside. Making their way in, Broyles explained the details of the case. "At first state law enforcement had thought it was a serial killer," he said. "But when they realised the girls had been experimented on they passed it on to us."

"Is it as bad as they say?" Lincoln asked him.

"However bad they say it is, it's worse. The CDC already took a look at the last two bodies; they've never seen anything like it."

They approached a room that was marked off with police tape. Lincoln pulled some kind of cream out of his pocket and put some under his nose. He passed it to Olivia. "Use some of this. It helps with the smell."

Olivia silently obeyed. They ducked under the tape and followed Broyles into the room, seeing the girl's body on the ground surrounded by forensics workers. Olivia forgot to breathe for a second. She'd never seen a dead body before, but she never imagined that her first would look like this. Lincoln noticed her hesitance. "Hey Liv, you hanging in there?"

She nodded, trying to swallow as the threat of tears stung her eyes.

"Liv, if you need a second, take a second. I can wait."

"It's fine," she said, getting herself together. She started to walk over to the body, Lincoln close behind as they crouched down to get a closer look. God only knows what was done to this girl. She had organs missing, evidence of torture and experimentation unlike anything Olivia had ever heard of, and even signs of sexual assault. The poor girl was only in her late teens or early twenties. Lincoln was chatting to the forensics team trying to get details, but Olivia was barely listening. She felt sick to her stomach.

She shook her head to clear it, trying to focus on the work. "Have they been able to ID any of the victims?"

"None of them yet," Broyles replied. "But the dental work on the first was distinctive to Eastern Europe. The state cops checked out missing persons reports but didn't find any matches, so they think she was trafficked."

"Trafficked," she repeated, running a hand over her face as she tried to absorb what must have happened to this girl. "And the others?"

"It's possible. Frankly there's not enough left of them to tell. Hell, the last one didn't even have a brain."

"Fuck me," Lincoln muttered. "So the theory so far is that ZFT's behind this?"

"Who's ZFT?" Olivia asked.

A forensics guy chuckled. "Is she new or something, Lee?"

"Yes she is, actually. It's her first day and she caught this twisted bullshit for a case, so why don't you cut her some slack?" Lincoln retorted.

"ZFT's an international terrorist group, but not in the conventional sense," Broyles explained. "Instead of trafficking in drugs or weapons they traffic in scientific progress. They're privately funded and have cells in 83 countries that we're aware of. Basically they make it possible for terrorists around the world to carry out their attacks using cutting edge technology, and what they come up with tends to be pretty horrific." He stood up and straightened his jacket. "I need to head back to the Federal Building. You two take a look around and see what you can find."

"Yes sir."

Olivia and Lincoln kept checking out the body and the building for clues, but they found nothing helpful. There was nothing at all to suggest who the girl was or where she came from, let alone who killed her. "We're wasting our time here," Lincoln finally said before turning to the forensics team. "Thanks a lot for your help, guys. Send us whatever you have from the autopsy as soon as it's done."

The ride back in the car was tense. Olivia wasn't speaking, just trying to bear with what she'd just seen. Lincoln noticed. "You OK?"

"I'm fine. You?"

"I've been better. But you don't look fine."

"Look, Lincoln, I'm so sorry about before. I should never have hesitated like that."

"Don't worry about it. It was your first - "

"No, don't make excuses for me," she interrupted, feeling herself start to lose it. "I let my emotions get the best of me and it wasn't appropriate. I can't believe I - "

"Hey, hey, hey – calm down," he said, pulling over on the side of the road. "Take a deep breath. Seriously, do it."

She obeyed, but felt herself start to crumble again. Failing to bite back tears, she brought a hand to her face. "Shit…"

"Shh. Breathe, OK?"

She nodded and did as he said, starting to compose herself. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be falling apart like this. This isn't exactly the first impression that I wanted to give my partner."

"What impression?"

"That I was _weak_," she said, hating the word.

"I don't get the impression that you're weak. Despite what you may think, you actually handled yourself well in there. That being said, I do get the impression that you're compassionate. Everyone gets disturbed by shit like that. If you don't then something's wrong with you. To be honest, that one was worse than plenty I've seen before. Shook me a fair bit, too. I've got a sister around that age – I'd die if something like that happened to her."

"I'm 23," Olivia whispered. "She could have been 23. She even kind of looked like me, the blonde hair and everything…Sorry, I know that sounds crazy, it just kind of creeps me out."

"And that's OK – that's a normal reaction. Look, we deal with worse stuff than any other department. Seeing bodies never stops being awful, you just get better than handling it. You'll see. But don't beat yourself up. For your first crime scene, you did well."

"Thank you, Lincoln. For everything."

"Don't mention it. I have a feeling we're gonna be a great team. That's important in this line of work – you absolutely have to be able to trust your partner. You want to grab a drink or something after work? Get to know each other a bit?"

"Sure. After everything you've taught me today I think I owe you one."

He chuckled. "You don't, but I'll take it anyway," he said, starting the engine and driving off again.

They went out and had a better time than she expected to. She couldn't believe her luck. It was only their first day but Lincoln had already proven himself to be a great partner – really knowledgeable but also fun-loving and considerate, always taking the time to explain things to her and make sure she handling the work. They quickly found that they had a lot in common and before long he was making her laugh without any hesitation. By night's end she was convinced that they'd not only end up as good partners but great friends, too.

Eventually she went home to her and Rachael's apartment, realising her sister would be worried about how work went. She walked in the door and was relieved to find Rachael in the kitchen with a bright smile on her face. "Liv! How was your first day?"

"Honestly? Horrible. But my partner's pretty cool. We just went out for drinks to get to know each other."

"What's his name?"

"Lincoln Lee."

"Hmm. Sounds like a cartoon character. Is he hot? Like, older hot?"

Olivia laughed out loud. "Gee, those pregnancy hormones are doing a real number on you, huh?"

"Yeah, it's been weird lately. I think I'm starting to hit that crazy sex-drive phase I read about."

Olivia smirked. "Greg's got good timing, then. He's coming home next week, right? Have you guys bought that apartment yet?"

"Yeah, I finalised everything today actually. Sorry, I meant to tell you. But anyway, is he hot?"

"He's my partner, Rach. I'm kind of not allowed to think of him like that even if he was. And he's not that much older than me, a couple of years maybe."

"Ah, that's OK. You'd never admit it anyway."

Olivia rolled her eyes and raided the fridge for a snack.

"So you're first day was really that bad?" Rachael asked gently.

Olivia smiled weakly and leant against the fridge. "The job's harder than I thought it'd be. Not more intense, just…emotionally harder, I guess. The stuff we investigate is pretty dark and my boss expects a lot from me. Everyone does. I don't know…"

"It was only your first day, Liv. It'll get easier once you figure it all out."

"Yeah. Thanks, Rach. Sorry, I'm so tired, I'm going to bed."

"Go, go, rest up. You look like you need it. Love you, Liv."

"I love you, too," she said before walking off to her room, immediately collapsing onto her bed and feeling her need for sleep take over. But even then she couldn't get the dead girl's face out of her mind, and all night she dreamt about the worst things possible.

**Please Review!**

1 The FBI's Crimes Against Children Unit


	3. Cape Town

**References: the swings (Jacksonville), Mako the chop shop guy (Midnight), Peter's "big boy" comment (The Cure), the hand touch (The Same Old Story), "You belong with me" (Over There: Part 2), "I beat that too" (Midnight)**

Olivia bought a couple of slices of pizza for her and Charlie to share for lunch and headed over to meet him. They'd been having lunch or coffee together whenever they could to support each other through their internships, despite being in different departments – him in the Crimes Against Children unit and her in Fringe Division. She found Charlie sitting on a park bench down the road from the Federal Building, his forehead creased as he read through a file. "Hey," she said as she approached. "What are you working on?"

His stern face didn't soften. "Just reading through stuff for work. My partner and I caught a missing persons case."

"A missing kid?"

He nodded, bringing a photo out of the file. "Her name's Justine Guo. Fourteen years old."

Olivia ran her fingers over the photo. "She looks happy. Any idea what happened to her?"

"She doesn't fit the profile of a runaway. She was really fortunate – great friends, doing well in her classes, solid family, all that. Somewhere walking home from school she just disappeared. We're thinking she was taken, but no leads so far. Statistically, she's probably dead by now." He closed the file, rubbing his eyes. "I gotta tell you, Livvy, I love this job but it's really making me see the world differently. Everything looks darker to me now. I mean, what kind of world do we live in if people are doing this to kids?"

"I know what you mean. My case is already keeping me up at night. I keep seeing this girl's body in my head. I can't even count the things they did to her. Forensics told us she was alive for most of the experimentation, the rapes, all of it. And we still don't even know her name. It just makes me angry."

"That's not a bad thing. There are some things in the world worth getting angry about. I think we have to let that anger make us restless – make us want to do something about it." Charlie took a deep breath and put an arm around her shoulder, comforting both her and himself. "We're gonna be OK, Liv. We just have to find a way to stay human in this job. We have to keep believing that good things happen in the world, otherwise these things that we see every day are gonna eat us whole."

She nodded silently, knowing he was right.

"Have you been OK, Liv? How's your mum?"

Olivia just shrugged, not wanting to talk about it. Her mother had been worse lately – much worse. She decided to change the subject. "Have you proposed to Sonya yet?"

That finally brought a smile to his face. Sonya always did. "Not yet," he said. "I've been waiting for the right moment but I think I'm just holding myself back because I'm nervous. I probably just need to bite the bullet and do it. I'm planning on taking her out to ask her this weekend."

Olivia beamed and nudged him, laughing. "Don't be nervous. She loves you to pieces."

"I know, I know – it's still a big step."

"That's true. But I think you two are gonna be fine."

"Thanks, Liv," he chuckled with a mouth full of pizza.

When work was finally over for the day, Olivia went over to a local restaurant to meet up with Peter. She'd been making an effort in the couple of weeks he'd been in Boston to check up on him. Even as he tried to convince her he was working things out, she was worried. When she got to the restaurant, he was already there waiting for her. "Hey," he said warmly, pulling her into a hug. "Thanks for meeting with me."

"No worries."

"You want to go to the park again tonight?"

"Sure," she said with a smile. He knew how much she loved it there. They got some takeaway Thai food and walked over to the park, sitting side by side on the swings. She loved this spot because the playground was on a hill that had a great view of the sunset over the city.

"How's work going?" he asked her in between mouthfuls.

"It's so hard, but I think I'm getting used to it. My partner's been a really great teacher and is always making sure I'm keeping on top of everything. We get along really well. What about you? Are things getting any easier?"

He shrugged and played with his chopsticks.

"Peter," she pushed gently.

He sighed. "I got offered a job this week. From an old friend of mine."

"Peter, that's great!"

He shook his head. "I told him no. This friend, Mako – he said I could be a mechanic at his garage, but the place he runs is a chop shop for stolen parts. It's so hard to find legitimate work. I'm trying really hard not to get into anything illegal - the gambling and everything - but it's hard when it's all I've ever known. Nobody wants to hire a young guy with a criminal record. I can only really get work from friends and, let's face it, not that many of my friends are working in lawful businesses. I've been applying all over the place, Olivia. It just seems like nobody wants to give me a chance."

She nodded solemnly, letting the light wind rock her on the swing. "Peter, I know this is hard. But I want you to know I'm really proud of you."

He scoffed. "Why the hell would you be proud of me?"

"It would be easier for you to go back to the way you were, go back to your old friends - but I can see how much you want to change your life. I want to help, if I can. I mean it."

"I know you worry about me, but I don't want you to, Olivia. You have more than enough to worry about, with your mum and Rachael and work and everything. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself."

"Peter, don't downplay how difficult this is for you. Be honest with me. Where have you been staying?"

"I told you, Livia, I'm bumping around."

"How long are you going to be able to do that?"

"Damn it, Olivia, I'm trying my best here, OK?" he snapped. He immediately shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry, that came out really wrong."

She bit her lip and looked at her feet as they dangled from the swing. "I wasn't trying to criticise you, Peter. It's just that you told me once that I was no good at letting other people help me. You're not too good at it either. I know you want to take charge of your life, but Peter, you're making this a million times harder on yourself trying to do it alone." She reached over and gently touched his hand. "Listen," she said, chuckling a little. "I can't believe I'm about to propose this, but do you want to come live with me?"

"Olivia…" he started to protest.

"Wait, wait, hear me out. Please."

He nodded.

"Greg's back in town and he and Rachael found an apartment together, so Rachael's old room is all yours if you want it. I know you feel uneasy about letting me help you out, but I think you're running out of options."

He took a deep breath and rubbed his temples. "I'm reluctant to ask that much of you," he admitted. "But I think you're right. I don't have anywhere else to go, Olivia."

"So you'll do it?"

"Yeah. Sure, I will. I'm just so sorry that I need this kind of favour from you. I hate that I can't even do something as simple as provide for myself. But I promise, Livia, it's only until I get back on my feet. And when I get a job I'll pay you back for all of it -"

"Don't worry about it. Rach and I bought the place with the money from the house, so we don't have to worry about rent or anything. You just need to focus on getting your life back together. Besides, I want to help you, Peter. After what I put you through, at the very least I owe you this much. Plus you'd kind of be doing me a favour too. With the way things are so intense at work right now, I could really used a friend around at home."

She could tell he was still embarrassed to be asking for the favour. He ran a hand over his head and looked out over Boston's skyline as the sunset burned down to night. "I owe you an explanation," he said after a long while. "You deserve to know what happened in South Africa."

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," she replied. "But if you want to tell me then I'll listen."

He nodded silently and gripped the chains of the swing, rocking himself back and forth slightly in a kind of self-comfort as he gathered his thoughts. "At first I thought I was handling it," he finally said. His voice was quiet and deep, but there was enormous pressure behind it. "I felt like it was a new start, but as I started working there I found that I had far more enemies than I had allies. I didn't know anyone except for Akim's brother in Jo-berg. I had no real friends. I didn't feel safe anywhere."

He stopped for a second and Olivia put a hand on his arm to tell him it was OK. He closed his eyes briefly and a weighty sigh escaped him before he kept going.

"I thought about coming back here so often, but I figured there was nothing here to come back for. My Mum's dead, my father's insane. You and the others had moved on to better things. I barely have any other friends back here. Between all the crime and gambling over the years I've lost the respect of almost anybody who ever tried to do me a favour or lend me cash to run off to someplace new. And so I stayed there, tried to make some money for myself. I started gambling pretty heavily. I owe a lot of people money now - some more dangerous than others. But I kept trying to work for them, pay them back. It was a cycle I couldn't break from. I felt trapped there because everywhere I went there were guys looking for any chance to kick my ass up and down the street. But even then I kept telling myself I was in control. It just…"

He rubbed his bleary eyes and Olivia wrapped her arm further around his shoulder. He hung his head low. He was silent for a long time, and then he said, "I went to prison, Olivia."

It shocked her to hear this, but she found herself hugging him tighter. He tensed and softened under her arm. "It was only for a few days. I got caught in one of my shady deals but they didn't have enough evidence to keep me there. It's the one thing in my life I'm most ashamed of. I'm ashamed to be telling you now. I'd never been in jail before, and South Africa wasn't the best country to do it in. The place was run down, filthy, filled with rats. There were brawls every night. I was so scared in there Olivia. I didn't sleep the whole time. Always watching my back. There were just as many people who wanted to hurt me in there as outside. I thought I was gonna die in that place, Livia. That was rock bottom. That was when I knew I had to get out of all this or it was gonna kill me. I had to."

His voice cracked and she pulled him close in a tight hug. He clung to her and she could feel him shaking. The sensation was astonishing to her. Peter had the steadiest hands she knew. He pulled away and quickly blinked, making her notice that unshed tears hung in his eyes. A split second afterward, she noticed she was crying too. "When I got out I kept my head low and ran to Jo-berg to stay with Akim's brother," he said. "But even then I didn't feel safe. A couple of weeks later, I got the call from St Claire's telling me Walter was sick. Finally I felt like I had something to come back for. That phone call may have saved my life. I'm sure if I'd stayed in South Africa much longer I'd be dead."

Olivia didn't know what to say to any of this. She couldn't imagine what he must have gone through over there. The fact that he'd initially gone to Cape Town because she left him caused her immeasurable pain and a guilt she couldn't even describe etched itself into her soul. The fact that he had believed he didn't have any reason to return to the states, not even for her, was worse. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "For what I did to you."

He caught on to what she was thinking and shook his head, a finger touching her chin to force her to look at him. He softened when he saw that he'd made her cry. The fact that she'd been weeping so silently made him ache. "No, Olivia. No way. This wasn't your fault, you hear me?"

"But -"

"No. I made the choice to go. I made the choice to get involved with those people and commit those crimes. It's time for me to take responsibility now. I'm almost 25, Olivia. I need to grow up and really start getting my life back together. I have to. My problem at the moment is that I don't know how I'm supposed to do that. I don't know how."

"We'll figure it out. I promise. They say that when you hit rock bottom the only way out is up. Soon enough, this'll be one of those things you're gonna look back on, and you're gonna say 'I beat that too'."

He looked to her quizzically. "Olivia…why do you want to help me? How could you, after everything I just told you?"

She smiled wryly and held his hand, resting her head on his shoulder. "Because you're my friend, Peter."

But in her head she thought, _Because you belong with me_. In the past few weeks, all these old feelings for Peter had been rushing back to her, all this guilt from how she left him. She realised now that she could have stopped their breakup if she'd just tried as hard as he did.

But she pushed those thoughts out of her head for now. She was just grateful he was there with her. They sat like that on the swings for a long time, comforting each other silently as they watched the sky turn black.

**Please Review!**


	4. Walter

**References: Red Vines (The Abducted), superpowers (In Which We Meet Mr Jones), meeting Walter (Pilot), Walter touching Olivia's cheek (Bad Dreams)**

Olivia sat in a chair beside the hospital bed where her mother was sleeping soundly. It seemed like she was sleeping all the time these days, but at least she wasn't in pain that way. Olivia was reading through files for work, trying to study the details of the case. The sicker her mother got, the more she distracted herself with her job, but at least she was impressing her new colleagues at work.

Peter had moved in to her apartment a few of days earlier and things were going well so far. He'd finally found a job doing construction in the east district. It was only a casual position and payed next to nothing but it was better than no job at all. It helped Olivia a lot to have a roommate – a friend to come home to and hang out with after a stressful day at work. She wasn't allowed to talk to him about her cases so he didn't know the horrors of her job, but it still helped. Peter had always been there for her in the past and since coming back from South Africa that hadn't changed.

"Hey," he said, standing at the door of Marilyn's room. He'd come to drive her to work. Her schedule had been so busy lately. She was always either at the Federal Building or the hospital, so having him drop her places was really helpful.

"Hey."

"You ready to go?"

"Sure," she replied, packing away her files. "Thanks so much for doing this, Peter."

"No problem. How is she today?" he asked as he placed some flowers in a vase by Marilyn's bed.

"About the same. You really didn't have to bring those," she said about the flowers. There were millions of them in the room already.

"I wanted to, Livia. I don't know your mum well or anything, but I know how much she matters to you. And she's always been kind to me. I'm not too used to that. My ex-girlfriends' mums are usually pretty livid if they ever meet me," he joked, hoping to bring a smile out of her. He succeeded, but only slightly. She went over and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek before going to his car.

When she got to the Federal Building, she kept digging through clues trying to find a connection between the three victims or a lead to ZFT. Olivia was sitting at her desk when a huge packet of lollies landed on the file she was reading. She smiled and looked up to Lincoln as he sat at his desk beside her. "Red Vines?"

"Yeah. You looked like you could used a sugar rush."

"Thank you," she said, opening them up and offering him one. He took a couple and grinned at her, spinning in his chair. She laughed a little. Lincoln was the last person she expected to find in a job like this. Everyone else in the department was so serious but he was a standout – always trying to make people smile or cracking jokes. That being said, he was just as dedicated to the job as anyone else. Everybody loved Lincoln.

"So what have you been up to last hour?" he asked her in between chews.

"I've been _working_," she teased. "Where have you been? You know, apart from 7/11?"

"Well, excuse me for picking up snacks for us! I'm so unappreciated." He sighed in mock hurt, a hand over his heart. "Nah, I was over at the Massive Dynamic lab. They're taking a look at the experimentation done on the girls to try and find out what all of it was for. Most of it's stuff they've never seen before, but they're finding that some of the science links to a classified experimental government project run out of Harvard in the 70s. They gave me a bunch of files on it for us to look through. Have you found anything?"

"Well, the victims are still unidentified so it's unclear if there are any links between them besides their age range."

"Don't hold your breath waiting on IDs. These guys were smart. Forensics says there's so little left of them we may never know their names. What else have you got?"

"I tried looking for connections between the crime scenes – all abandoned buildings, but the previous owners are all different companies. The dump sites seem to have been selected at random. But the bodies weren't buried or hidden in any way. It's like these people wanted someone to find the bodies - for impact or something."

"ZFT has a habit of doing that. They like to show off to other scientists."

"Still, we can't be sure it's ZFT yet. I called the Behavioural Science Unit and they agree that the sexual assaults were a secondary method of torture and that the scientific experimentation was the main motive for their abductions, even though Forensics says they were assaulted _before_ the experiments. That's all I've been doing today. It just seems like we keep hitting dead ends."

"Well, we might want to track down the scientists who were involved in this old government project. The guy who ran it has been locked up for years so he's obviously not involved, but his research is remarkably similar to some of the stuff done to the girls' skin in particular. If we can get in to see him he might be able to help us with the rest."

"What do you mean 'if we can get in'?"

"The hospital's only letting him have visitors if they're allowed in by a relative."

"How hard can that be?"

Lincoln checked the file. "Well, he hasn't really got many."

"What's this guy's name?"

"Uhh…Walter Bishop."

Olivia did a double take. "Did you just say 'Bishop'?"

"Yeah. Why? You know him?"

"No."

He flicked through the file again. "Well, he does have a son."

"Peter."

"Yeah, how'd you know that? You got superpowers you aren't telling me about?"

Peter was going to hate her for this, but it was exactly what they needed. "I can get us in to see Bishop. It won't be a problem," she said quickly, getting up to go to Broyles' office.

Lincoln tapped her arm to stop her as she walked past him. "Whoa, whoa, slow down. How do you know this Peter guy?"

"He's my roommate," she said simply, walking off to talk to Broyles.

* * *

"I cannot believe you talked me into this," Peter said through gritted teeth as Olivia drove them to St Claire's.

"I'm so sorry, Peter. I know you don't want to be here. It's just to get me in the door."

"What possible help could this man be to you? Olivia, he couldn't have done anything. He's been in a hospital for the last twelve years."

"I know, but he may be able to help us explain the nature of some factors in my murder case."

"What are you talking about? My father worked for a toothpaste company."

Olivia bit her lip and focused on the road. It killed her not to be able to tell Peter the truth about how his father had actually been working for Calvin Genetics, a secret government program. She knew how much he wanted answers.

"Olivia, what's this about? What are these things he's supposed to be able to explain to you?"

"Peter, I'm sorry. I can't discuss -"

"…an ongoing investigation. Yeah. I know."

They were silent the rest of the way. When they finally got to the hospital, Peter waited in the foyer while Olivia was led by a nurse to Walter's room. She wasn't quite sure how to act with this man. Peter had only seen him a couple of times since he came home, and he was reluctant to talk about him, so she had no idea what to expect.

As she walked through the halls of the hospital, she felt her stomach knot up. The place was horrible - she couldn't stand living in there for a week, let alone twelve years. The nurse opened the door for her and she saw an old man sitting in a table turning to see her. He had a grey, stringy beard and kind eyes. "Hello," she said uncertainly. "My name is Junior Agent Olivia Dunham. I'm with the FBI. I'd like to ask you some questions about your work."

He smiled. Warm. "I knew someone would come eventually," he said softly.

They went to sit in the cafeteria so she could talk to him about the case. He seemed to understand that work that was done on the girls, but she couldn't make much sense of what he was saying. Either he was spitting out science far beyond her understanding or going off on tangents about food. When he was lucid, it was volatile – like at any minute he'd go off the rails. He had nervous ticks – like playing with the fingers on his left hand. Olivia deflated as she talked to him. The man was definitely insane.

"Is the dermis translucent?" he asked. "The muscular tissue visible?"

"You mean can you see through their skin?" She checked the file. "On the second victim, yes, but not the others."

"That's – oh, that's not good. Very advanced…Yes, that makes sense." The twitching in his hands stilled for a moment as he looked up at her. "Are you my son's friend? The one he met in Virginia?"

She felt herself start to lose her patience. "Uh, yes, I am. But Dr Bishop, do you know how these toxins might have been administered to the victims? Would they have to be injected or digested? Could they maybe have an airborne form so as to poison several victims?"

"He told me about you. He was right. You're a very nice girl."

"I appreciate that but Dr Bishop, _please_, I need you to focus. This is potentially a national security issue, it's very important that we -"

"I know Peter is here," he said, clearly in a world of his own. His eyes turned from wild to weak and imploring. "Please. I would very much like to see my son again. So very much."

The way he said it – her heart almost broke for him. She knew Peter wasn't going to like it, but figuring it was worth a shot, she went back out to the foyer. Peter stood staring out a window, arms crossed and seething. He really didn't want to be there. "He asked for you," she told him.

He glared at her. "Thanks, sweetheart, I appreciate that."

"Hey, I didn't tell him you were here," she bit back. "And call me 'sweetheart' one more time, I'd really like that."

Peter paused painfully and shot her another icy look before reluctantly walking back with her to the cafeteria. Walter's face lit up as soon as he saw them. "Peter!" he exclaimed, moving closer. Peter immediately backed up as Walter reached out to hold Peter's face, pulling his eyelids apart. Peter shoved him away.

"Walter, what are you TOUCHING ME FOR?"

"Still no problems with your pupils. Excellent…yes, that's fantastic news…"

"There was nothing wrong with them the last time I visited you, Walter."

"Good…good…may I check your blood pressure?"

"I'm fine, check your own fucking blood pressure."

"Peter," Olivia interrupted, trying to calm him down. "Walter, the case?"

"Oh! Of course, the experiments. You still have the victims' bodies, yes?"

"Yes, we do. We have scientists studying them now, but they've never seen anything like it."

"No, no, they wouldn't have…Too sophisticated, yes…" Walter dissolved into a series of hand twitches as he sorted through his thoughts. His eyes caught Olivia's and he softened. "You look so familiar to me. I can't remember… Yes. So familiar…" Without warning he reached out to gently cup the side of her face. She brushed his hand away, taking a step back as Peter charged between them.

"Don't you dare touch her. Ever."

"Peter, it's fine," she said, pulling him back. She could feel fury radiating from Peter's body and she was truly afraid he would hurt his father. "Dr Bishop, please. What more can you tell me about the experiments?"

"The toxins. Yes. I concur with your scientists. I believe they are a continuation of the work I was doing at Harvard -"

"Oh yeah? On _toothpaste_?" Peter interrupted sarcastically. He turned away and started pacing, muttering under his breath. "Fucking liar."

"But to determine the advancement of these experiments, I must be able to see the corpses for myself. Which I am unable to do under present law unless I am signed out by a legal guardian…" He looked to Peter. "…who once again must be a relative."

Peter nearly choked on his own spit. "Wait a minute, you're asking me to – No. _Guardian_? No, forget it."

"Peter, can I talk to you?" Olivia asked, knowing she was going to have a tough time convincing him to do this. He reluctantly followed her just out of earshot of Walter before he exploded.

"Are you out of you damn mind?"

"Peter, please. I would not be asking this of you unless I had to, you know that. This isn't just a serial killer I'm dealing with here. We think a major terrorist organisation is killing these victims because they're preparing for an attack. This is a matter of national security -"

"Olivia, even if I wanted to do this – which I don't, let's be clear on that - I don't have the time or the means to look after this man. I don't know anything about him, or the kind of care he needs. I'm living with you. I only just got a job this week, I haven't even got my first pay check yet. Olivia, don't you understand -"

"I know -"

"I can barely pay to feed myself right now."

"I know. We can work around all that. Broyles talked to me about it this afternoon. The FBI would pay for all of his expenses. I'm sure we can organise for him to have a room at Boston General so he can be looked after and be close to the Federal Building. Broyles also said if that were to happen you'd be payed as an FBI consultant. It's a good job, Peter. All we'd need is for you to be legally responsible for him and be present whenever he does scientific work for us. You may not notice this, but he's actually more lucid when he's around you. Please, I know I'm asking a lot from you, but there are lives at stake here, and at the moment your father is our only functional lead. Please."

Peter clenched his hands and exhaled roughly, like he was struggling not to hit something. "Fine," he spat. "But the second this is over I want him locked up. He's dangerous, Olivia. I mean it."

She nodded. "Thank you, Pe-"

"Don't" he snapped, storming past her back out to the foyer. Olivia sighed and ran a hand through her hair. This wasn't going to be easy.

She called Broyles to let him know what was going on while Peter signed discharge papers. They were going to send some agents to pick up Walter in the morning and take him to Massive Dynamic. Others had already started arranging Walter's old lab at Harvard. The car ride back to their apartment was deathly quiet. She could tell Peter was still furious about the situation he was in, and she felt guilty for dragging him into an investigation as horrific as this.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, looking out the window. "I shouldn't have acted like that with you back there. I just…"

"I get it. Don't worry."

He exhaled, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm not like my father, Olivia. I need you to understand that."

"I know. I knew that the moment I saw him. Same blood, but not the same heart."

He nodded. Looked back out the window. Neither of them had anything much to say to each other after that.

**Please Review! It makes me write faster, honestly : )**


	5. The Hunt

**References: Peter's rant (In Which We Meet Mr Jones), toad explanation (The Dreamscape), "I'd take you" conversation (Brown Betty), first raid (Dream Logic)**

Early morning sunlight burned through the kitchen window and Olivia started awake beneath it. She looked down and realised she'd just fallen asleep on a pile of phone records, an open highlighter still in her hand. Damn. She didn't even make it to bed last night. She could have sworn she was only resting her eyes…

A cup of coffee hit the table in front of her. She looked up and Peter gave her an amused smile. "I told you to go to bed."

"Shut up," Olivia groaned as she rubbed her face and drank some coffee.

"You're welcome, by the way."

"Yeah, yeah, thanks," she mumbled.

He laughed. "Gosh, Dunham. You're a real train wreck in the mornings, huh?" She glared at him through bleary eyes, but he was having too much fun to care. "You hungry? I'm making eggs."

"Yeah, sure. OK. When did I get to sleep last night?"

"Well, you were still working when I went to bed, and that was a little after midnight."

"No, I was up heaps later than that."

"I get that you're under a lot of pressure with the case and everything, but you really need to take care of yourself, Livia. You need sleep. And you need to listen to me when I tell you to rest. Promise me you'll just go to bed next time?"

"Yeah, whatever."

"Promise, or no eggs for you."

"Fine, I promise."

He smiled at her. "That's my girl. Now go have a shower or something. It'll wake you up. Breakfast will be ready when you're done."

She nodded sleepily and muttered some thanks before trudging off to the bathroom. She let the water run over her body, soothing the piercing headache that pounded her brain. She couldn't believe how hard it had been in the last month to adjust to the demands of her job, but she was under extra stress with her mum and everything. When she got out of the shower she could already smell bacon and eggs and smiled to herself. Peter really had been a godsend lately.

"How are things going at the lab with Walter?" she asked him as they started eating.

"He has good days and bad days. At least he sleeps at Boston General so I don't have to look after him at night too. The man's insane, Olivia. But I have to admit, he's brilliant."

"Is he staying focused on the case?"

He chuckled sardonically. "Focused? Olivia, two-thirds of the time, my father's not even lucid. And in those rare and unpredictable moments of clarity, he rambles on about the foods and beverages that he missed while he was incarcerated in a mental institution for the last twelve years. No. He's not focused. And also, it's not going to change anytime too soon. I'm his son – I'm not a puppeteer. I'd don't have a remote control. There's no master switch I can flick and turn him into the man I wish had raised me, or even somebody I don't have to baby-sit ever day…" He stopped, noticing he was ranting and Olivia was just staring at him, eyebrows raised. He gave a weak, amused smile. "I guess I've had that on my mind for a while."

"Apparently."

They both started laughing and eating again. "What's going on in your world, Olivia? It's like you're so caught up with work these days we hardly ever get to sit and talk like this."

"I know I get carried away sometimes, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. You're good at your job because you're so relentless. But how've you been? Is your mum OK?"

"She's hanging in there. But Rachael went to get an ultrasound yesterday and it turns out I was right," she said with a huge smile. "The baby is a girl."

He laughed. "No surprises there. You're pretty good at guessing. But I would have laughed _so _hard if you were wrong."

"Yeah, that would have been embarrassing."

"I talked to Charlie the other day. He and Sonya are doing really well. Being engaged suits them, I think."

Olivia laughed. "You should have seen him before he proposed. The poor guy was terrified she'd say no."

"Come on, as if she'd say no. He's really good to her."

"I know. Charlie's a sweetheart. And they're so in love, anyone can see that. I'm really happy for them. And they're both from New York, so if they choose to get married there we'll get to go. I went to boarding school in Manhattan, I can't wait to go back and see it."

"I've never been."

Olivia almost choked on her eggs. "You've never been to New York?"

Peter shrugged. "Never had a need to."

"Peter, you're kidding. It's _New York_. It's not even a one hour flight from here."

He shrugged again.

"It's a three hour drive, Peter!"

"Don't sound so shocked. Not everybody wants to go there. It's not the Emerald City," he said. "I'd go with you, though."

"You would? Why's that?"

"I dunno, seems like it'd be fun," he said with his signature charm smile. He glanced at the clock. "Sadly, I have to go work with Walter in the lab soon. Do you want me to drop you at the Federal Building?"

"Yes please. Lincoln and I need to go over some new leads this morning."

"Right." Peter couldn't help the drop in his voice. He hadn't even met this Lincoln guy but Olivia always talked about him. These days she spent more time with him than she did with Peter, and they even lived together. But of course, Peter could never tell her this bothered him. He tried to push those feelings out of his head and remind himself that they were just friends now.

That morning, when Olivia walked into the Fringe office, Lincoln was there waiting at their desks as always. "Hey Liv! I need you to do me a favour, please. Broyles is breathing down my neck about this Bishop guy we've got working down at Harvard."

Olivia deflated. "What's he done now?"

"He's ordering a lot of weird stuff and Broyles is wondering if he's wasting resources."

"Let me see," she said as he handed her some records. She shook her head. "This is all science stuff, I can barely read it."

"Right, sorry. Uhh, this week's order is for 40 frogs. This particular breed is indigenous to South America - very expensive."

"How do you know that?"

"I majored in medicinal biology before I got into all this."

She gave him a teasing smile. "You know, Lincoln, I never picked you for a science geek, but now that I think about it, it kind of makes sense."

He laughed. "Yeah, well this is where you end up when you drop out of medical school."

"Why? You'd be a good doctor."

He shrugged. "I just didn't like it. I thought it was what I wanted my entire life and then once I actually got in it just didn't suit me. I dunno. I'm pretty happy here."

She gave the records back to him. "You should go down there and talk about this with the Bishops. You'd understand the science."

"No, I think you should go. Dr Bishop's still getting used to his surroundings and I think it'd help to have a familiar face tell him we want to limit how he spends our funds."

"OK, I'll go," she said. "But you owe me some Red Vines," she joked, starting to walk away.

"How about dinner instead?"

She stopped dead in her tracks. Turned to face him. Blinked once or twice. "Isn't that kind of against the rules?"

He shrugged casually, hands in his pockets. "Not against the rules, per se. More like frowned upon. But it's not like we're putting pressure on ourselves or anything. It'll be just like when we go out for drinks after work, except we'll just see where it goes this time. If we decide it's more, it's more – if not then we just stay as we are."

She ran a hand through her hair and looked up at him. "Lincoln, you're wonderful, and we get on really well. I'm just not sure that this is a good idea. I mean we work together."

"I know, I know, it's tricky. But frankly everything we do together is tricky. Just have a think about it, OK? That's all I'm asking."

She nodded with a smile. "OK. I'll let you know. I'll see you back here soon, OK?"

As Olivia turned and walked out of the office, she couldn't believe what had just happened. Had Lincoln Lee really just asked her out? Like, on a date? They were good friends and he was sweet, charming and funny. Under normal circumstances she would have said yes on the spot. But they worked together, and if this were to go wrong, she was sure they could go back to normal. But if it were to go really well and turn into something more, they could get themselves into some real trouble professionally.

Either way, she had bigger things to worry about now. Olivia walked into the basement of the Kresge Building at Harvard to find total chaos. Amid the piles of testing material and scientific equipment were rattling cages of frogs and even a cow. She just raised her eyebrows at Peter as he approached her. "How do you get anything done in this place?"

He clutched his chest in mock-pain. "Every day's a struggle," he whimpered.

She shoved him playfully. "Is your father about?"

"Ah! Agent Dunham!" exclaimed Walter, emerging from around the corner. "What brings you to our humble lab this morning, my dear?"

"Hi Walter. Listen, my boss wanted me to come down and talk to you two about all the things you've been ordering. We're wondering if they're actually necessary for your work on the case."

"They are, I promise," Peter said. "Just not in the way you think."

"But 40 frogs? That seems a bit excessive for an experiment."

"They're not frogs! They're toads!" Walter exclaimed, pulling out a wriggling toad from its cage to show her. "_Bufo alvarius_. I theorise that a chemical compound we found in one of the three victims may be a concentration of the venom in the skin."

"To poison the girls? But that wasn't cause of death in any of the cases."

"Not poison exactly," Peter explained. "The venom at a particular level of concentration produces psychosomatic effects."

She smiled awkwardly. "Are you gonna get me a dictionary or are you gonna explain what that means?"

He chuckled. "'Psychosomatic' basically means when the mind is able to produce actual, physical changes in the body. Mind over matter, like when you get scared and you get goose bumps. Come here," he said, leading her over to one of the bodies. "This is Jane Doe No. 1. The girl from Eastern Europe."

"I went to Eastern Europe once. Excellent vodka," Walter interrupted, still petting the wriggling toad in his hands and smiling down at it. "I quite like this little fellow. I shall name him Desmond."

"Good for you. Anyway, Olivia, see these scratches here?"

"Yeah, the M.E. said they were self inflicted. She ripped out some of her own hair as well, but we never knew why." She watched as Peter put on some gloves and moved some of the victim's hair around to reveal sets of tiny double puncture marks. "Are those bites?"

"That's what we thought initially. They have the same size and distance as tarantula fangs. But there were no hairs, cells or fibres that tarantulas usually leave behind. In short, she has the bites without ever being bitten."

"How's that possible?"

"Highly concentrated, the venom can act as very powerful psychosomatic hallucinogen," explained Walter. "It directly affects the amygdala, which is the fear centre of the brain. We hypothesise that this poor young girl was given the toxin, hallucinated being bitten by spiders and then her body formed the wounds in her skin."

"So it's a torture method?"

"Or a means for murder. You can literally scare someone to death with enough of this toxin."

"So where does that leave us?"

"Well, there are a few species of toads that produce these venoms, so we ordered them all and we'll do experiments to determine which venom was used on both affected victims. These species are in short supply. I reckon if we identified the exact breed, they may just be rare enough for there to be a record of everyone who buys them."

"So we can track down the killers. You guys are geniuses, thanks so much. Keep me posted."

Walter grinned mischievously. "And now to begin the testing!" He lifted the toad in his hands up to his mouth and was about to take a lick when Peter quickly ran over and pulled it away from him.

"WALTER! What have I told you? First two rules of the lab: no human experimentation and no taking drugs!"

"But that makes science so boring, Peter!" Walter complained.

"Yeah, yeah, my heart's breaking," he muttered, putting the toad back in its cage.

"Good luck with him," Olivia said as she walked away. Peter responded only by mouthing 'Save me!' and miming scratching at the windows. She laughed and waved him goodbye as she headed back to the Federal Building.

By the day's end, they had been able to locate a potential warehouse lab from records of toad purchases. Olivia and Lincoln went downstairs with some other Fringe agents to make up a tactical team to raid the lab. Olivia had never been on a raid before. She hadn't even handled a gun since basic training. Lincoln talked her through all of it as they got suited up and collected their equipment. They had a few minutes before they had to leave so she quickly went up to the Crimes Against Children Unit to speak to Charlie.

"Hey Liv," he said as she got to his desk.

"Hi Charlie. Any luck with Justine's case?"

"We think she was taken by a trafficking ring, but we're not finding much. What's up?"

"Listen, I was wondering if you could do me a favour. Lincoln and I have to go raid an illegal lab, and I was wondering if you could hang on to this for me." She took off her mother's cross necklace and placed it in Charlie's hand. "If something goes wrong, could you give it to Rachael?"

"Liv, nothing's going to happen to you."

"Promise me. Please."

"OK. I'll keep it safe till you get back. And don't worry. You're gonna be fine."

She nodded and gave him a smile. "Thank you, Charlie," she said before jogging back down to the rest of the team. They got into their truck and started to make their way towards the warehouse. Olivia tried to keep her breathing even and dry her sweaty palms on her pants. Part of her felt confident, but the rest of her was nervous.

"You've got nothing to worry about, Liv," Lincoln said on the way. "This should be a straightforward raid. Just stay with the team, remember the layout, and always check your blind spots like they taught you in The Academy. As long as you're carful you should be fine."

When they got to the warehouse, she did her best to stay with the team and follow everyone's lead. She immediately did what any rookie would do – she started looking for an exit. But she reminded herself of what had to be done and pushed through the fear. The place was dark, filled with equipment and rattling animal cages. For most of the time they were in there, absolutely nothing happened. But that was the scariest part. She was always expecting someone to come round the corner or shoot through a window. All she could hear was her shaky breaths radiating inside her helmet as they moved through the building. In the end, the suspects hadn't been expecting the raid, so the team found them simply at work in one of their lab rooms. Lincoln took one of the guys down and tossed Olivia his handcuffs. "You can do the honours, Liv." She felt the weight of them in her hands and clicked them around the suspect's wrists. It was an unexpectedly satisfying feeling.

When it was over she went outside and sat in the gutter, head in her hands. The concrete was cold, like the wind. She stripped off her Kevlar vest and helmet, running a hand through her hair as blue and red lights bounced off the alley walls.

"I was right," a familiar voice said behind her.

She looked up. "About what?"

"You had nothing to worry about at all." Lincoln smiled weakly and took off his helmet, sitting beside her. "You handled that well. You should be pretty proud of yourself."

She scoffed, feeling that her hands were still shaking some. "The last thing I feel right now is proud. This job's so much harder than I thought it'd be," she confessed.

"You were nervous in there?"

She nodded.

"That's normal. Raids are always scary, no matter how many of them you've done. It's about how you use that fear. Honestly, they may not show it, but everybody on the team felt some kind of nerves tonight."

She shook her head. "I didn't see it."

"Look a little closer. You'll see, in the truck on the way back, everybody's gonna be on their phone to their wives and kids just to hear their voices. It helps bring you back to reality. As you do more of this you'll figure out how it affects you and how to work around that. But considering that was your first raid, you did well, Liv. And you got to arrest a guy tonight. How cool is that?" he said playfully, giving her a nudge.

She laughed and nudged him back. "Thanks Lincoln."

"Anytime, Liv."

She looked at him for a moment, smiling as she thought about all the other times Lincoln had helped her out when the job seemed like too much. "OK," she said out of nowhere.

He looked puzzled. "OK, what?"

"I'll go out with you."

He smiled. "Really?"

She nodded. "Only if you promise that whatever happens, we can always go back to this."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Liv." He stood up, holding out his hand to her. He pulled her up off the pavement and they walked back to the truck with the rest of the team to go home.

**Please Review!**


	6. Planting Flags

**References: Peter's book (Firefly)**

"So where's he taking you?" Peter asked Olivia as she got ready for her date with Lincoln. She wasn't majorly dressing up or anything because she didn't want to put pressure on herself, but she did make more effort than she would if she was just going out to see a friend. Regardless, Peter thought she looked beautiful.

"Just down to the river."

"Yeah, they've got some nice places out there. But be careful, Livia. I mean, I'm sure he's nice but you haven't even known this guy for that long. I'll wait up - make sure you get home OK."

"Peter, I'm not 15," she said, knowing he was being passive aggressive.

"I know. I just don't want to see you get hurt, that's all."

"Don't worry about me. I can look after myself, and Lincoln's a good guy. Besides, this'll be fun but it probably can't go anywhere in the end. I mean, we work together."

"Right," he said, leaving her to keep getting ready. He couldn't stop the feeling of jealousy that brewed inside him. He knew she'd inevitably move on from what they had, but living with her had brought back so many old feelings. Even though they weren't together, he felt like someone was denying him the chance to ever win her back. But he knew he had no right to feel like that. He didn't own her, and he did want her to be happy. So in the end he settled for being protective rather than angry - maybe just a little overprotective.

There was a knock at the door while Olivia was still in her room, so he went to answer it. He opened the door to find a young man standing there looking expectant. "Hi. You must be Peter."

"And you must be Lincoln."

They shook hands, but Peter made sure there was an element of challenge in it. Feeling jealousy start to take over, Peter folded his arms and blocked the door, forcing Lincoln to wait for her outside.

"I'm here to pick up Olivia."

"I know. She'll be ready in a minute. But you and I need to talk first."

Lincoln looked like he thought this was a joke. "OK."

"Listen, Lincoln, if Olivia wants to go out with you, that's her business - and she's usually a pretty good judge of character so I'm sure you're a half decent guy. But you need to know that this girl is a really good friend to me, and I want it to be damn clear that if you disrespect her or touch a hair on her head, she will kick your ass. And when she's done with you, I'll personally hunt you down and do you over so badly you won't be in control of your bodily functions anymore. Got it?"

"Sure," Lincoln replied confidently. "But it's not gonna come to that."

"I certainly hope not. Just something you need to be aware of."

"I'd expect no less from her friend. She's a great girl."

"Yes, she is."

Olivia walked back down the hall to find the two young men talking at the door. She hadn't heard what they were saying, but their body language said it all. "Peter, why didn't you tell me Lincoln was here?"

"It's alright, Liv," Lincoln said. "I only just turned up and we got talking."

"Really?" she asked incredulously.

"Yeah," said Peter. "Just getting to know the guy, that's all."

"Right."

"Come on, Liv, let's get going," Lincoln said, and she walked over to him, shooting Peter a quick glare along the way. "It was good to meet you, Peter."

"Yeah, you too." They shared another challenging handshake before Olivia and Lincoln turned to go down the stairs outside her apartment. Olivia gave Peter another fierce look over her shoulder. 'We aren't done here,' she mouthed to him angrily. He lifted his hands and smirked as if to say, 'Fine by me'.

Olivia turned back to Lincoln as he started joking with her like always. He drove her down to a string of little restaurants and shops on a boardwalk along the Charles River. They had dinner at this quaint little Indian place and walked around exploring all the shops. As they walked along the boardwalk under the stars, the cool breeze picked up a little and Olivia started to shiver. Seeing this, Lincoln decided to take off his jacket and wrap it around her shoulders. She laughed. "Lincoln, I can't take it, it's yours."

"I'm not even cold. Seriously, I insist."

She smiled and melted into the warmth of his jacket, the smell of him washing over her. "Your mother raised you well."

"It was my dad, actually. My parents got divorced when I was 10 so I lived with him after that."

"Are you still close now?"

"Yeah, I guess. He lives back in D.C. He works at the Hoover Building."

"Your dad's in the FBI too? That explains a lot."

"Yeah. People always assume that he put a lot of pressure on me to join the bureau, but he was really supportive when I wanted to become a doctor. He just wants me to be happy, I think."

"And are you happy?"

He smiled at her. "Right now or generally?"

"Both."

"Yes. To both."

She smiled back at him but it didn't last long. "Listen, Lincoln, I need to apologise about Peter. He can be a bit overprotective. I hope he didn't…you know, intimidate you or anything."

Lincoln laughed. "He didn't. He was just looking out for you. I get it. To be honest, I can't say I've never done the same."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. I've got a sister – Andrea. She's in college now, but in high school she was _that_ girl, you know? All the guys liked her, and she wasn't particularly selective about them."

"My little sister Rachael was like that. We're so different. She couldn't go two weeks without a boyfriend and I was always telling guys to get lost."

He smirked. "You haven't told me to get lost yet." She gave him a demure smile and dropped her head, letting her hair fall like a curtain around her face. He decided it was time to continue the story. "Well, anyway, by the time Andie had her first date, I was in my first year of college on a baseball scholarship. It was Christmas break so I was home. Anyway, the guy shows up and I go to the door in my jersey with my bat to greet the guy."

"You didn't!"

"I did," he said, chuckling at the memory. "I told him if he messed with her, I was gonna mess with him. Worked, too. Poor kid was so terrified he never brought her home late or anything."

"I get what you're saying, Lincoln, but I'm not in high school anymore. And Peter's not my brother. We're very close friends, but that doesn't give him the right to say anything to you."

"Liv, don't worry about it. You should know by now that I don't scare easily. Besides, you're lucky to have a friend who cares that much. A lot of girls don't."

"Thanks, Lincoln," she said. Then she smirked. "Baseball, huh? That's so…all-American of you."

"Do you follow it?"

"No, I'm more into ice hockey. It's the only sport I find interesting for some reason."

"Oh yeah? That's awesome, women never watch sports."

"That's so not true!"

"Fine then, who do you go for?"

"The team of whatever city I'm living in. I moved around too much to support just one. So it's Boston Bruins at the moment. You?"

"Washington Caps. They've got this player, Ovechkin. Russian guy. He always scores off these crazy shots but he does it too often for it to just be luck. The man's a beast, I swear."

"Can you skate?"

"Not well," he admitted. "I wish, though. Can you?"

"Sort of…"

He grinned broadly. "Oh, no, you're being modest, I can tell. I bet you can do full triple axles and whatever."

"No, I can't. I'm OK, I guess. I learned when I was at boarding school in New York."

"You know, it's still early and there's a rink up the road. You want to go?"

"Sure."

They headed up to the ice rink and payed for their skates. It was a week night so luckily the place was pretty empty. Lincoln got on the ice and was already shaky. "I can't believe I suggested this," he said as he held the railing to help him along.

"Relax, Lincoln. Try and keep your feet a little closer together." He did and was a little more stable as he moved. She skated around in front of him and started skating backwards so she could see what he was doing. "A little closer, still. Yep, that's perfect."

He laughed. "Great. Any day now I'll be winning the Stanley Cup."

"You'll get the hang of it soon, don't worry. Bend your knees a little more and try pushing off a bit harder." She reached out to him. "Here, hold my hands. It'll be easier if you're not using the railing to pull yourself along."

He took her hands and they skated a few laps around. "You're a good teacher."

"Thanks. Want to learn something else, then?" She let go of his hands.

"No, don't let go of me! Crazy woman!"

"Relax, Lincoln. Part of being able to skate is having faith that you won't fall," she said, going out ahead of him. "At the moment, you've just been turning by leaning. Try doing the same sort of thing but this time put one foot in front of the other so they sort of form a line, like this." She went ahead of him and demonstrated the turn.

"OK, you're definitely a pro or something."

She laughed. "This is all I would do when I was in New York."

"Who taught you?"

"I learned a little bit from friends. Mostly I taught myself just by watching people," she said with a shrug. She took his hands again and taught him the turn. She even tried to teach him how to do forward crossovers, although they fell together a fair few times. They didn't care, though. They were just having fun. Finally Lincoln stacked it one last time. Olivia quickly skated over to him. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah," he groaned, chuckling as Olivia helped him get up and go to the railing. By now they were the last people on the rink. He hoisted himself up to sit on the railing and smiled at her. "Why don't you show me what you've got, pro-skater?"

She thought for a moment and then skated back out into the middle of the rink, starting by going around forwards and backwards as she picked up speed. She started doing the few tricks she knew while Lincoln cheered her on from the sidelines and dared her to try new things. Once she'd done everything she could think of, she skated back over to where he was sitting to see him clapping proudly with a huge smile on his face. She slowed as she got closer to him and came to stand between his knees. They hesitated for a moment, always wondering if it was right, or what it would cost them down the track. When they finally kissed, it was awkward at first, but not for long. It quickly went from something that seemed unnatural to something else entirely, but just before it could go from something else to something real, Olivia pulled away.

"Lincoln," she breathed. "I really like you…"

"But you think we should stop." He smiled at her with understanding. "I think we're both thinking the same thing. You and I seem good together, but if we let this go too far, somewhere down the line it'll bite us. Besides, we make just as good a team when we're friends."

She nodded. "So we can go back to before?"

"Yeah. I think we can. It really is my loss, though," he said with a nudge. "You want me to take you home?"

She nodded and helped him down from the railing onto the ice, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for everything, Lincoln. I'm sorry if I disappointed you."

"You didn't," he said honestly. "I'm glad we tried this. If we hadn't, we'd have never known it was too much. I think this is the right thing to do for both of us, and in the end that's all that matters." They gave back their skates and as he drove her home they fell back into their normal friendly ways without a problem. She was glad that even though they'd pushed the boundaries tonight, they were still able to be great friends.

When Olivia got through the door of her apartment, what Peter had done came back to her and despite the great night she'd had, she felt frustration rise inside her. She walked down the hall to his bedroom and found the door open, Peter sitting on his bed reading '_If you see the Buddha on the road, kill him!'_ while Bad Luck by Social Distortion blasted through his speakers.

"Peter, you son of a bitch."

He turned off the radio. "Ah, you're home. How was it?"

"Wonderful, actually. Lincoln was wonderful. And you had _no right_ to act like that with him. You know your juvenile little plan to intimidate him? It didn't work. He actually defended you. What the hell did you say to him?"

"That's between us."

"You're so full of shit, Peter. Tonight was between Lincoln and I but that didn't stop you, did it?"

"Well excuse me for looking out for you!" he yelled, getting up off his bed so he could stand toe-to-toe with her.

"I never asked you to! Were you just being a good friend or did you actually fool yourself into thinking you had a right to be jealous?"

"Livia…" he started, his voice dark.

"You need to move on. What we had was wonderful and intense, but it's gone. Just forget about me, about -"

"I did!" he shouted before he could stop himself.

"What?"

"I did move on, Olivia," he said dejectedly. "I tried, anyway. I was seeing a girl in South Africa."

That was a kick in the teeth, but she swallowed it with stoicism. "I don't care if you saw someone or not. That's none of my business. I just don't want you stopping _me_ from trying to move on."

"You don't care?"

"We were broken up by that point. It's not my place to care."

"It really doesn't bother you? I was fucking another girl halfway around the world and it _doesn't bother you_?"

"No," she lied.

"It bothers me."

"I don't see why it should."

"Damn it, Olivia, she wasn't you! I felt nothing with her because it meant nothing. She was just a rebound. I was trying to get over you but she wasn't you and that just hurt. But you know what? Lincoln isn't me either, but you don't even give a shit."

"Believe it or not, Peter, this isn't about you. Going out with him wasn't a rebound or some ploy to make you jealous or whatever bullshit you think it was. I just wanted to have a good time tonight. And frankly I thought that you'd at least have the respect to let me do that. You can't keep trying to pull me back just when I'm trying to start with someone else. It's not fair. Just leave me alone!"

She stormed off to her room leaving Peter standing alone in his doorway, a hand over his face, wondering what the hell he'd just done.

**Inspiration from the skating part came from when I went skating with a Canadian friend in the US a few weeks ago. I'm Australian and am very bad at it. I ended up stacking it and sprained my wrist so badly it was in a splint for three weeks : ( My Canadian mate WOULD NOT STOP LAUGHING AT ME! But I'm determined to get good at skating eventually!**

**Please Review! I love to hear what you have to say : )**


	7. Loss

**References: "let's just move on" (Marionette), "It's OK. I'm (you're) here now" (Marionette), "That's not what I want" (The Plateau), tripping (Safe), Aunt Missy (The Dreamscape), "I lied to you" (Shapeshifters Dream), "That's the end" (In Which We Meet Mr Jones)**

Olivia woke the next day with a whirlwind raging inside her head. Last night came rushing back to her, both the good and the bad times. Knowing she'd have to reconcile with Peter that morning, she groaned and trudged to the bathroom to wash her face of what little eyeliner she wore the night before. She heard rustling in the kitchen and walked down the corridor to meet Peter as he was cooking.

"Oh, hey," he said, surprised. "I didn't think you'd be awake already."

"I just got up."

"I thought I'd make you breakfast."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to, Olivia." He took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes. "I'm an asshole. You were right. Whatever happened last night was none of my business and it wasn't my place to get involved."

"Forget it. It's fine."

"No, it's not. I'm supposed to be your friend. I should never have hurt you like that. I'm really sorry, Olivia."

Olivia wasn't sure whether or not to stay mad at him, but she knew Peter Bishop well. She knew that despite his many mistakes apologies didn't come easy to him, so when he finally did swallow his pride and own up to something he meant it every time. She felt the verity in his words that morning and knew that there was no way she couldn't forgive him for a stupid fight. She remembered something her father used to tell her – when you have an argument with someone, just sleep on it because it always looks better in the morning.

"Don't worry about it," she said, smiling weakly at him. "Let's just move on."

He nodded and smiled gratefully, going back to rattling around in cupboards. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"I don't mind."

"An omelette?"

"Sure."

They fell into a semi-comfortable silence as he started cooking, but it didn't last too long. "For what it's worth," he said. "I really do hope you had fun last night. I know I wasn't fair to Lincoln either, and I plan to apologise to him too, but he seems like a decent guy, Livia."

She nodded and helped him cook. "Yeah, we had a really nice night, but in the end we both decided that it would eventually cost us too much professionally. It's a high-risk job and the bureau doesn't sit too well with workplace relationships. That being said, being in a male-female partnership, you do get the occasional comments here and there."

"What do you mean?"

She scoffed. "The FBI's a massive boys' club, Peter – especially the department I'm in. I'm not taken seriously by some people. Every now and then I overhear some chauvinist asshole in my unit making a comment about how I must be sleeping with Lincoln or Broyles just coz they're my superiors and they like me. You should hear what they say. Some of the guys are just awful. Most of them have been really supportive, though."

"Still, you shouldn't have to deal with that."

She shrugged. "It comes with the job."

He chuckled. She was always like that. She just swallowed whatever happened to her not because she was a pushover but because the job was more important to her than whatever challenge it threw at her. Thinking back to their argument, he hung his head and took a breath. "Olivia, I should explain what I said last night - about the girl in South Africa."

"You don't have to, Peter. It's none of my business."

"Yes it is. You need to know that I didn't say it just to hurt you. It was true. I was seeing someone over there, and she was just a rebound. My heart wasn't in it at all. I'm not proud. I always meant to tell you eventually, but I shouldn't have told you like that."

Olivia nodded and shrugged. "It's in the past, Peter," she said. "It's OK. You're here now."

He smiled back and they finished cooking, sitting down to eat their pancakes. They started talking about the usual things when Olivia's phone rang. She figured it must be Broyles, since he was the only person who'd call so early in the morning.

It wasn't Broyles. Olivia instead heard the familiar voice of her mother's nurse Amy on the other end. She excused herself from Peter in the kitchen to continue the phone call in her bedroom. She knew what Amy was calling about before she even told her. Her mum had died. She knew it in her gut. But even though she expected it, the news still hit her like a kick in the stomach. She wanted to cry and scream and smash things, and she felt herself start shaking under the pressure to keep it all down. In the end, she could only bring herself to ask one thing.

"Has somebody told Rachael?"

"Not yet. I'm just about to call her after I finish speaking to you, dear."

"Don't worry about it," Olivia said. "I'll let my sister know. It'll be better if she hears it from me."

"If you're sure, love."

"I am. Thank you for everything," she managed to get out before she slammed her phone shut. She struggled to get her breathing steady. When she managed to calm herself down, she called Rachael, sitting helplessly on the edge of her bed as she listened to her little sister fall to pieces across the distance. She told Rachael she'd be at her place soon to talk and start sorting everything out. They had to call their family, organise a funeral, sort out payments and insurance and all that. It seemed ridiculous that they'd have so much to do when they were supposed to be grieving for their mother. As she hung up, she forced herself to get it together, going back outside to get her keys and go straight to Rachael and Greg's apartment.

Peter looked up as she walked back into the kitchen. "Was that work calling?" he asked, oblivious to what had just happened.

She hesitated for a moment. She wanted to tell him the truth, but she couldn't handle it – not yet. "Yeah," she lied. The sensation left a bitter taste in her mouth – one she couldn't swallow down. "I've got to go in. Thanks for breakfast."

"Livia, are you OK?" he asked, noticing something was up.

"Yeah. I'll see you later." Without another word she went downstairs to her car.

She managed to hold it together for a little while. She drove until her shaking hands made it impossible. In the early morning light, she pulled over into an empty alley and before she could help it she was sobbing harder than she ever had before. She could barely take a breath. Her whole body was shaking violently as she buried her face in her hands and just cried. She felt small and alone, lost without the one person who'd been there for her through every single day of her life. All she wanted was to talk to her again, to hug her again and smell that perfume she always wore. All Olivia could think was that she had failed her. She should have been there when she died, even if it did happen early in the morning.

After she quieted down, she called Broyles to let him know she'd be in a couple of hours late. She just needed time to comfort her sister and they could start organising plans when she got home from work that night. He offered her some personal leave but she refused it, save for a day off for the funeral. She needed to work right now – she needed something to make her feel anything other than this. He agreed as long as she stayed out of the field for a few days, took it easy. She reluctantly agreed. Desk work was better than nothing.

When she got to work, Lincoln didn't know what was going on, but he sensed that something wasn't right. "Liv, what's up? Are you OK?" he asked her at their desks.

"Yeah. Why?"

"You just seem kind of quiet this morning. Anything going on?"

She shrugged, not lifting her eyes from the files she was studying. "Just home stuff."

"Liv, you know you can tell me anything, right?"

She knew he was being kind but she was starting to lose her patience now. She just wanted him to leave her alone. "I know. I'm just not really the kind of person who does that."

"Can I help?"

"I doubt it," she said with a bite in her voice. She immediately softened. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." She rested her forehead against her hand and closed her eyes.

Thinking she owed him an explanation now and that he'd probably find out from Broyles anyway, she sighed and bit the bullet. "My mother died this morning."

"Liv, I'm so sorry. Are you sure you're OK to work today? Coz you can get some time off -"

"It's fine," she said quickly. "We were kind of expecting it. She was sick for a long time. I just had to look after my little sister this morning. It's hit her pretty hard and she's pregnant so we have to make sure she doesn't stress more than she has to."

"Still, just because you were expecting it doesn't make it any easier. I know you're ambitious, Olivia, but don't be ashamed to ask for some time if you need it -"

"That's not what I want. Look, I appreciate your concern, Lincoln, and I'm sorry I was late this morning, but I really do want to be here. I'm not going home." She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I have to go to the lab and get updates from Dr Bishop. I'll be back soon," she said as she left the room, struggling to keep her emotions in check.

She rushed over to the lab, but not because she needed updates. She had to tell Peter the truth. She had to tell him everything. But when she got there she kind of baulked on the inside. She knew she would have to tell him, but she risked falling apart again and the last thing she wanted was to lose it in front of anyone today. She smiled weakly at the Bishop boys as she walked in and tried her best to listen to Walter and Peter's science-fuelled updates. Peter noticed she wasn't as involved as she normally was. "Livia, are you OK?"

"Yeah. I'm good."

"No, Peter's right," Walter said. "Your pupils are dilated. It's a symptom of high stress - unless you're using hallucinogens." He smiled playfully. "Are you tripping, Agent Dunham?"

"Walter…" Peter scolded.

"Peter, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Yeah, sure," he said, going with her to the small office at the back of the lab. He leant against the desk as she closed the door and folded his arms, his brow furrowed in concern. "What's going on, Olivia?"

She smiled wryly and bit her lip, leaning against the door. "I lied to you."

"About what?"

"That phone call at breakfast this morning – it wasn't from Broyles."

He nodded. "I guessed about as much. What's wrong, Olivia?"

She gulped. He noticed her do that thing where she scrunched up her face a little and tried to talk with her hands. "I owe you an apology. I should have told you this morning."

"Olivia, what is it? You can tell me."

"Mum died," she said simply. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I tried but I was just a bit thrown -"

"I understand. And you have nothing to apologise for." He walked straight over to her and pulled her into a hug. She went rigid in his arms but he refused to let her go. He knew she needed this, even if she didn't. "I'm so sorry that happened to you, Olivia. Is Rachael OK?"

Olivia pulled away and scoffed. "Barely. We just need to focus on keeping her and the baby healthy while she's stressed."

Peter nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know what to say, Olivia. I wish I knew how to help you."

"I didn't come here for your help, Peter. I'm doing OK on my own. We knew this would happen. We had time to prepare ourselves for it. I'm fine."

"Olivia, we both know it's a lot more complicated than that."

"It's not complicated, it's simple. She was sick, she was suffering and now she's not. That's the end."

"That's the end for her."

She paused and ran a hand through her hair, bringing her hands together in a prayer-like position in front of her face. "Look, I just thought you should know," she said finally. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you when I should have. I have to go back to work. Call me when you have something."

She was on her way out before Peter could stop her.

* * *

A few days later, Olivia and Peter were sitting on a park bench along the Charles River. They were waiting for Rachael and Olivia's Aunt Missy to show up so they could go and scatter her mother's ashes somewhere in the area. Her mother really loved this place.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Peter asked her tentatively.

She shook her head. "I think it should just be us – you know, the people that were closest to her."

"Of course. But if you need anything at all I'll just be waiting in the car, OK?"

"Yeah."

She was quiet for what seemed like a long time, running her fingers over the box of her mother's ashes which sat in her lap. "I thought this would feel weird or morbid or something," she finally said. "But it doesn't. I don't feel anything, really. I mean, this is just ash - it's not my mum. It's just nothing." He put and arm around her and pulled her close so her head lay on his shoulder. "She was the only one who's been there for everything, Peter. She was the only one who shared all those memories with me. And now…"

"Now you're not sure how to make sense of the world if she's not in it."

She nodded, the green in her eyes now shimmering with tears. "How did you know that?"

"That's exactly how I felt when my mother died. You're right. Mothers are the only people who are there from the beginning. Losing that guidance, that kind word, that extra set of eyes – it really disorientates you."

He felt her shoulders shake with silent sobs under his arm as she tried to keep herself together. This was the first time he'd seen her cry about her mother. Even when she first told him that day in the lab, she was refusing to let herself feel it. At home, she'd just want to be alone. Sometimes he'd hear her cry at night but she'd never let him past her bedroom door. At the funeral, she looked almost soulless, like she'd felt so much pain it just pushed her into feeling nothing at all. But now she was crying right in front of him – this was a big step in her healing. His heart broke for her as he pulled her impossibly closer, subtly planting a feather-light kiss into her hair. Her tears started to soak through his shirt onto his shoulder.

"I just want her back," she whimpered.

"I know, Livia," he said softly to her. All he wanted to do was kiss her, love her, and do all he could to make everything OK again, but he knew that was impossible, and she was nowhere near ready to hear how he felt about her. "I know you miss her. I'm so sorry."

They stayed like that for a while until they saw Rachael and Olivia's aunt approaching in the distance. Olivia immediately sat up and wiped her face, pulling herself back together. Peter had never seen Olivia like this. Not even after Harris or Lucas or John's accident. Her face was all soft. Because this time she wasn't being strong out of resentment or pride or embarrassment. She was being strong for her family out of love. And in the same way, she had just allowed herself to be vulnerable out of love and respect for her mother. She sent him a faint smile and gave him a brief but sincere thank-you kiss on his cheek before getting up and going to meet her family, grasping the little box of ashes close to her chest.

**Please Review! Always love to hear your opinions**


	8. New York

**This chapter is dedicated to my friend Richard Nelson, a US Marine who died a few weeks ago after a long battle with cancer – and to others who are serving in the military, or know someone who is. You guys make a sacrifice the rest of us can't understand. God bless**

**References: "That's sweet" (Firefly), breakfast in bed (6955 kHz), "caught up" (Reciprocity), "something in my teeth" (Over There: Part 1), Coney Island (The Plateau), roller coasters (August)**

**Lyrics are from a 2003 classic by John Mayer, Your Body is a Wonderland**

Olivia was in bed when she heard a soft knock at her door. "Come in."

Peter entered with a huge tray of food and the newspaper, setting them down on the bed. She laughed. "Wow. This is better than room service. What did I do to get so lucky?"

"Nothing, it's just for being you," he said with a shrug.

But she knew the real reason. She'd still been down since her mother died and he was still trying to cheer her up. He was wonderful like that. "Thank you. This is huge," she said. "Come on, we'll share."

He sat cross-legged at the foot of her bed with the tray between them, stealing a bit of toast with a grin. She flipped through the paper. "Ah. Earthquakes, oil spills, financial disaster. Not really the best way to start the day."

"Yeah, I thought there was nothing good until the sports section."

"What's in the sports section?" she asked suspiciously.

"I don't know. But you should find out."

She tore through the paper until two small bits of paper fell out. Looking closer, she saw that they were two tickets to the New York Rangers vs. Calgary Flames ice hockey game that weekend. "I love hockey!"

"And I figured we were way overdue for a night of hanging out."

"Thank you," she said earnestly. "So we have to drive to New York Friday night?"

"Well, we were going up on Saturday morning for Charlie and Sonya's engagement party anyway. Then we can drive back Sunday morning like we'd originally planned."

"That sounds great, Peter, but how are we paying for all this?" she asked cautiously. "Peter, are you gambling again? Because if you are, I need you to tell me."

"I'm not gambling, Olivia, I swear to you. But working for the FBI has been decent money."

"But your debt -"

"It's not your job to worry about my debt, OK? I'm sorting it out. I just want you to have fun this weekend. You deserve it."

"OK," she said, getting up out of bed to give him a warm hug and thanking him again.

* * *

Olivia stood wearing her blue top and jeans in their twin hotel room in New York, waiting for Peter to finish getting dressed in the bathroom. "You ready to go to the game?" he said when he came out.

"Yeah. But what are you wearing?"

He looked down at his red t-shirt and shrugged.

"You know red is Calgary's colour, right?"

"Yeah. That's who I'm going for."

"But…they're Canadian."

"So? They're the better team. Besides, it's always fun to support the poor guys playing on somebody else's home ground."

"That makes no sense. You're American, last time I checked. You have to go for the Rangers."

"Why?"

"Because you're American! And we're guests in their city! And your logic is weird."

Peter grinned. "My naïve friend, the Flames have a four-game winning streak while your precious Rangers lost their last two."

"So you'd rather go for a team that wins than a team you have nationalistic obligation to represent?"

"Basically, yeah."

She laughed. "That's un-American, man. Be a little patriotic for once."

"Look, if Calgary wins I get full bragging rights, OK?"

"Fine. Come on, let's go."

They went to the stadium and found that it was already filled with people. The Flames didn't have a lot of support, but that didn't stop them. The Rangers put up a fight, but the Flames won 5:2. Peter wouldn't let it go – he had so much fun rubbing it in. Olivia just rolled her eyes. She loved the sport but in the end it was just a game.

It was still kind of early, so Olivia suggested that she and Peter walk home. They were walking along the streets bordering Central Park when Olivia recognised a road that went inside. She stopped and tugged on Peter's arm. "Can I show you something?"

"In the park? Is it safe?"

"I'm not taking you off the road and there are still plenty of other people around. It's well lit, too. Don't worry."

"I wasn't worried about me, Olivia," he said earnestly as she took him down the road. "So where are you taking me?"

"Just a place I used to go to think when I was at boarding school here. It's my favourite spot."

"In the whole city?"

She shook her head. "The whole world – what I've seen of it, anyway. Where's your favourite place?"

"I don't know," he said, hands in his pockets as he walked. "I've been all over the world and seen some unbelievable things, but I can't think of many places that really felt like home. If I had to pick anywhere, probably Kastellorizo, the Greek island my mother was born in - full of little fishing villages, it's beautiful."

She took him towards a flight of steps going down underground. At the bottom of the stairs was a huge stone hallway with columns and arches. The walls and ceiling were all lit up and decorated with beautiful classical paintings and elaborate patterns. Peter craned his neck to explore the art. "This is stunning, Livia," he said as they walked through. When they emerged on the other side they were in an enormous circular courtyard. In the middle was a huge fountain all lit up and adorned with a mighty iron angel at the top – her wings spread wide and bordered with a thin layer of snow.

"They call her Bethesda," Olivia explained. "The legend goes that thousands of years ago that angel touched the earth in Jerusalem and created a fountain of water that could heal people's suffering. So they say. It's a shame they've shut the water off at the moment. They have to in the winter coz they get ice in the pipes, but in summer it's really stunning." She smiled with this beautiful, innocent glow and took it all in, nodding. "Yeah. This is my favourite place in the world."

Peter was speechless. It was hard not to get caught up in this place. It was hard not to get caught up in _her_.

Snow started to fall lightly around them. Taking off her gloves, Olivia stretched her hands out to let the snowflakes come to rest against her skin.

"Olivia, what are you doing? It's freezing," he said, laughing at her.

"I like snow."

"Congratulations, you just described pretty much everyone on the planet," he replied, stretching out his tongue to taste a clump that was falling. "Snow makes everybody little kids again, huh?"

Olivia started to shiver and wiped her hands dry, putting her gloves back on. She looked back out over the fountain and the park, her heart swelling as she remembered all the good times she had there as a teenager. Peter could see why she loved this place so much, but he couldn't stop himself from staring at her. It had been a long time since he'd seen her smile so purely. She looked free, joyous, young.

Feeling his gaze, she looked up to him, puzzled. "What?" she giggled. "Do I have something in my teeth?"

He chuckled and shook his head. There was _that_ look between them now - they both new what was coming next. He leant in just a little, making sure to stop and guage her reaction. As he realised she was leaning too, he smiled, their breaths mingling as the space between them shrunk down to zero. The kiss was soft, hesitant and tender, but both their minds were reeling at an absurd speed. They'd forgotten what it was like to kiss each other – the taste, the smell, the emotion in it. Olivia was his by a sudden panic and broke away.

"Peter," she said softly while she was cursing herself in her head. "We're friends…Was that a mistake?"

"I'm not sure," he said honestly. "I don't know about you, but it didn't feel like one to me."

"Me either," she confessed quietly, biting her lip and brushing some hair from her face. "This is going to sound crazy," she said after a while. "But I might be open to the idea of trying 'us' again. If you want to."

"Olivia, of course I want to. But are you sure? I mean, you broke up with me last time."

"I know. And I'm so sorry for how I hurt you then. It's just that since you've come home, you've been so wonderful supporting me through my job and with my mum and everything. All these old feelings have been coming back and I'm not sure what to make of it. But since my mother died I've been feeling like I shouldn't let chances like this get away from me. I mean, life's short, you know?"

"Yeah, but Olivia, how do we know it'll be any easier for us this time?"

"We don't. I guess we'd just have to try and see. I know you still have feelings for me, and to be honest, I think I'm developing feelings for you all over again. Us being roommates has made me realise that we probably could have stayed together after Quantico if I'd just tried as hard as you did."

He nodded solemnly. "I don't want to make this decision lightly, especially after what happened last time," he said. "I've always wanted to be with you but I need you to be sure."

"I think we should try. Treat it as a new relationship. Go slow, and if either of us feels like it's a mistake, we can sort it out."

"OK."

"OK?"

He nodded and smiled; grateful to a God he didn't believe in for this opportunity to win Olivia back for good. Since Quantico, that had been the one thing he wanted most. That, and to escape South Africa. Now both his wishes had been granted, and he felt like the luckiest man on the planet. He leaned in to her and kissed her again. This time she didn't panic, and he didn't hesitate – it just felt really, really right.

"You want to go home?" he asked her.

She smiled and nodded, taking his arm and leaning her head against his shoulder slightly as they made their way back through the streets of New York. He held her close. He had a good feeling about this thing. A good feeling in his bones.

* * *

The next day, Olivia and Peter met up with Sonya and Charlie on Coney Island. They'd been hanging out on the boardwalks and going on rides all morning. It was really hot so Olivia and Peter went off to get milkshakes for everyone. As soon as they walked into the café, Peter came up behind Olivia and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close for a kiss. She laughed. "What was that for?"

"What can I say?" he replied with his signature smile as they got in line. "Being with you all day and not being allowed to kiss you in front of Charlie is killing me."

"Me too, but we agreed we wouldn't tell anyone until we were sure about us getting back together. I mean, we don't even know what this is yet. But do you like New York so far?"

"Yeah, it's a lot of fun. What about you?"

"Being here at Coney reminds me of when my Dad took us to Disneyworld when I was a seven," she said with a warm smile. "You know, it's a real shame you'll never get to meet him. He would have liked you."

Peter laughed. "Really? The tough navy officer father would have liked a guy with my arrest record going out with his marine/FBI agent daughter?"

"He liked to see the good in people. He would have seen what I see in you."

They finally got to the front of their line and ordered milkshakes for them and their friends. Olivia noticed that in the next line a guy in an Air Force uniform was buying ice cream for his kids. She interrupted the cashier serving him and paid for his order, thanking him for the work he was doing. The man and his kids thanked her profusely before walking away. Peter gave her a nudge. "You're sweet, but what was that for? You didn't even know that guy."

She just kind of smiled. "You don't get it. I'm a soldier's daughter," she said with a shrug. "I was raised to respect the military for the sacrifices they make. I was in the Marines myself. I've seen what a hard life it can be, that's all."

Peter loved that she said something like that with so much conviction, like it was the simplest thing in the world. He used a single finger on her cheek to tilt her face towards his and gave her a kiss. They were given their milkshakes and went out to Charlie and Sonya, once again adopting their role of "just friends". The four of them walked back along the boardwalk through all the rides.

Peter eyed an enormous roller coaster in the distance. "Oh, we have to go on that one."

"Nah, let's do something a little less intense. I mean, we just had milkshakes…" Olivia trailed off.

"Hold on, are you scared of roller coasters?" he teased with a huge grin.

"Yeah, she hates them," Charlie said. Olivia death-stared him and he shrugged. "What did I say?"

"Awww, is that true, Livia? Want someone to hold your hand?"

"Shut up, Peter!"

"Come on, I'm sure it can't be that bad," Sonya encouraged her.

"Fine," Olivia sighed and trudged to the ride. "But there's no way I'm riding with him," she said, pointing a finger at Peter.

"Alright, I'm sorry, come on -"

"No."

"Jeez, you're stubborn."

"I'll go with her," Sonya said. "You guys can pair up and have fun and we girls can freak out together, OK?"

After waiting in line some more, they got into the carriages with Charlie and Peter in the front and Sonya and Olivia in the back. Peter twisted around in his seat and grinned at Olivia. "You alright there, sweetheart? You're looking a little pale."

"Leave her alone," Sonya said, shooing him away. Olivia just glared at him and gripped the safety bar until her knuckles went white. When the ride started, she freaked out a little bit but after that she actually started enjoying it. She and Sonya screamed like crazy while Peter and Charlie were having the time of their lives. Then the ride started getting really turbulent and Olivia hear Charlie say, "Oh man, I don't feel so good," before he made this kind of choking, spitting sound.

Peter yelped. "DAMN IT, CHARLIE!"

"Dude, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."

"WHAT THE HELL?"

"I'm sorry!"

The girls had no idea what was going on in the seats in front of them, but soon after the roller coaster came to an abrupt stop.

"Guys, what happened?" Sonya asked as they started getting out.

"Charlie threw up on me!"

Olivia burst out laughing. "Karma rocks."

"Dude…" Charlie mumbled, clutching his stomach and stumbling over to a bin where he kept throwing up. "Milkshakes and rides do not mix well."

"I did say that," Olivia gloated, smirking at Peter.

"Bright side is, now we know why that ride's called The Hellhole," Peter muttered, frantically wiping at his shirt with a napkin. "I need to find a restroom and wash this out."

"It's still gonna smell," Charlie said. "I'll go buy you a shirt for you to wear until you get home to wash that properly."

"Yeah, thanks man," he said as he and Charlie both went off to sort themselves out, leaving Olivia and Sonya in hysterics behind them.

* * *

That night they had Charlie and Sonya's engagement party in the backyard of the Francis house in Brooklyn. Peter and Olivia didn't really know anybody but it was cool to see Charlie's brothers again and meet the rest of his family. Peter was finding it increasingly difficult to hold up this "Just Friends" act with Olivia. He could barely take his eyes off her the whole night. She was in this beautiful navy strapless dress Rachael bought her that clung to her body perfectly, and all her happiness about being back in New York lit up her face.

Peter went off to get a drink when Charlie followed him. "OK, I have to ask, Peter," Charlie's gruff voice interrupted his thoughts. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you and Olivia back together or something?"

"What gives you that idea?"

"Well, for one thing, you've been calling her 'sweetheart' again. I pay attention."

"Shit," Peter muttered. "Don't tell anyone, OK? The girl's gonna kill me."

Charlie laughed. "I can't say I'm surprised. You guys are just one of those couples that will always be a couple even when you're not together. When did this happen, man?"

"Last night. We're not sure if it's the right thing to do yet so we're not telling anyone for now."

"It's alright, I can keep my mouth shut. But Peter, she's like a little sister to me, so don't make me kick your ass. Be good to her, OK?"

"Always am, Charlie."

"I mean it. I know she left you last time but it was harder for her than you think. She was over here dealing with all this suffering in her life and you were over there getting into God knows what. Look, Olivia's strong and I'm not saying she needs someone to look after her. I'm just saying that she has enough crap to deal with between her family and her job without her boyfriend screwing her over. I know you're a good guy, Peter – I'm just reminding you to keep it that way."

"I get it. We're both protective of her like that. I'll do my best, OK?"

"That's all I ask, man."

_We got the afternoon  
You got this room for two  
One thing I've left to do  
Discover me  
Discovering you_

Sculling the rest of his drink, Peter excused himself from Charlie and walked over to where Olivia was, asking her over for a dance. She hesitantly agreed as she worried about what Charlie might see. "Peter," she whispered to him as he took her by the hand. "What are you doing?"

"Don't worry so much," he said to her, brushing some hair behind her ear. "Charlie knows."

"What?"

"I didn't tell him, he just figured it out. He can keep a secret. Relax. Come on, Livia, dance with me."

_One mile to every inch of  
Your skin like porcelain  
One pair of candy lips and  
Your bubblegum tongue  
_

It's hard to say no to a smile like that, so she smiled back and danced with him. They looked over and saw Charlie and Sonya together, laughing and enjoying the party. "That's sweet," Peter said.

"Yeah, it is."

"You look amazing tonight, Livia."

She blushed a little. "Thanks. You're not too shabby, either."

"I try," he replied with a shrug.

_Something 'bout the way the hair falls in your face  
I love the shape you take when crawling towards the pillowcase  
You tell me where to go and  
Though I might leave to find it  
I'll never let your head hit the bed  
Without my hand behind it_

"I love this song," she said.

"I thought you weren't really interested in music."

"Rachael's trying to educate me."

"Ah. I see," he said. "I've really had a great time here, Olivia. Thanks so much for showing me the city."

"No problem. I had a lot of fun too. It's brought back a lot of good memories."

"Make any new ones?"

"Definitely," she said, giving him a kiss.

_And if you want love  
We'll make it  
Swim in a deep sea  
Of blankets  
Take all your big plans  
And break 'em  
This is bound to be awhile  
Your body is a wonderland_

**Please let me know what you think! Your reviews are gold to me : )**


	9. Traffic

**References: morning phone call, Broyles' speech, and waking up a shirtless Peter (Same Old Story), McNeary (Pilot), Peter's true calling (In Which We Meet Mr Jones), "You feel good" (Unleashed)**

**Other references: shipping container (Season 2 of The Wire)**

It was about 3am when Olivia's phone rang. Groaning, she rubbed her eyes and answered it. "Wake up, Dunham." She recognised Broyles' deep, authoritative voice immediately. "There's been an incident. We're having multi-department briefing in the Major Crimes Unit conference room in 30 minutes. Bring Peter Bishop. We'll need him to explain this to his father later. Don't be late." That was it. She'd barely registered his message even as the dial tone pierced her brain.

"Good morning to you, too," she mumbled to herself. She dragged herself out of bed and trudged over to Peter's room down the hall. She knocked on the door but got no answer, so she hesitantly crept inside to wake him. She shook his shoulder lightly and then realised that he was shirtless beneath the blanket. The feel of his skin under her hand brought back memories and made her blush slightly, but she pushed those thoughts violently from her mind, remembering that they were taking it slow. She shook him again. "Peter, wake up."

He groaned and tossed in his bed. "Whaddya want?" he mumbled.

"Get up, we have to go."

"Not that I don't love hanging out with you, sweetheart, but it's the middle of the night."

"Broyles just called. I think we have a case."

"You're kidding me, right?"

She shook her head. "We have to be at the Federal Building in 30 minutes. Apparently there's something we need to see."

"And this something -"

"It can't wait."

He sighed. "OK," he said, sitting up and giving her a good morning kiss that made them both smile. In the few weeks since New York, they'd found that they'd been able to pick up pretty much exactly where they left off. Physically they were trying to pace themselves until they were sure, but emotionally it was all the same as it ever was. The parts of Peter that were always in love with Olivia had been awakened, and Olivia was still unsure about the exact degree to which she cared about him.

On the way to work, Olivia had no idea what to expect – only that it was bad. They managed to get there early so they quickly ran to a 24-hour coffee stand on the corner and grabbed something to wake them up. Jogging back to the Federal Building, they noticed Charlie heading into the building too.

"Charlie?"

He turned around, coffee in hand. "Liv? Peter? What are you doing here?" 

"They called us in for a briefing," she said as they began the walk to the MCU.

"Me too. I thought it was just my department."

"Nope. Apparently they want to make everyone miserable," Peter mumbled.

"Has Broyles told you what this is about?"

"No."

"Something big must have happened, huh?"

"Seems that way."

They noticed more and more people around them, everyone heading to the same place and asking the same questions. At the door they were handed a file each and told to take a seat. Dozens of agents were already there. The found seats and flipped through the files. "This looks serious."

"Yeah. I guess they're going to take us through it all."

Olivia nodded, closing the file as she realised they had a few minutes to wait. "How's your missing kid case going? Justine?"

He frowned. "Our last lead suggested that she was taken to be sold or trafficked, but since then we've had to put it on the backburner. We stopped finding clues and new cases kept popping up."

"How many abducted kids can there be in Boston?" Peter asked.

Charlie kind of smiled wryly. "You have no idea. But what about your case?"

"Walter and Peter are making some progress on what was done to our victims, but this group are seriously difficult to track. We know practically nothing about them or what they're objective is. It's like we're not achieving anything."

"I'm sure you guys are making more headway than you think. You're so hard on yourself, Liv," he said with a nudge.

She smiled back at him just when Broyles went to the lectern at the front of the room, immediately commanding everyone's attention. "Thank you all for convening at this late hour," he said, the tension in his deep voice resonating throughout the crowd.

"This morning, the Crimes Against Children Unit, the Major Crimes Unit, and the Fringe Division of the Counter-Terrorism Department are creating a joint task force. It has come to our attention that an abandoned shipping container was discovered in the greater Boston area last night. Inside were thirteen bodies of women aged from late teens to early-twenties - all the victims of repeated sexual assault and extreme human experimentation. It is our understanding that this is linked to a series of other crimes our departments have already been working on separately up to this point. In Fringe Division, we have been investigating a series of murder cases in which women of this profile were killed in exactly this way for the purpose of scientific experimentation by a terrorist organisation known as ZFT. We have information that suggests that some of the victims were trafficked from overseas, which the MCU has been exploring. The CAC has also seen an alarming increase of teens abducted for the purposes of being sold into sexual exploitation here in Boston. Some new intel we have received has confirmed what we have long suspected – that the trafficking ring is in itself a branch of ZFT, kidnapping women for the purposes of sexual slavery to help finance the experiments they later perform on them. What this intel has also suggested is that this pattern of crimes is going to culminate in a greater terrorist attack somewhere in the Boston or New York areas. We need to get to work fast to bring these people to justice before more innocent people are hurt. Take some time to read through your briefing files and reconvene with your department leaders in 20 minutes."

The room erupted into discussion. Charlie looked through the photos of Olivia and Peter's three victims in the file. "Great. So my 14-yr-old vic could be having _this_ done to her?"

"14…She's a little young to fit the bill," Peter said. "Maybe she was taken by somebody else."

"Age is the most flexible and inaccurate aspect of any profile," Olivia explained to him. "They would have taken her just because she was there. She was walking home from school alone, the opportunity presented itself and that's all the bastards would have needed. Besides, in that business, 14 means practically guaranteed virginity and that means a goldmine for sex traffickers."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, how much are we talking here?" Peter asked.

"For the chance to rape a virgin in this country? Easily thousands, tens of thousands. Whatever the highest bidder pays. For a brothel to buy a virgin from traffickers for them to sell out, they could pay up to $500,000. But with the money they get back on her, they make an even bigger profit. A girl in the American rape trade earns or average about $30,000 a week for her captors."

"That's sick," Peter grimaced. "Fourteen…too damn young."

"Of course, the price to use the girl goes down significantly after that - a couple of hundred for sex, more or less," Olivia explained. "After that first night, it's 20-40 clients a day until she dies, gets too old or too sick for them to keep her, she escapes or is rescued. On average, girls who die within the industry don't make it more than two years as a sex slave – between the beatings and abuse, bad living conditions, starvation, diseases, drugs, suicide and all that, they die off quick."

"If you think about it, ZFT's being incredibly smart here," Charlie added. "They need to kidnap people to run their experiments on anyway, but by selling out their test subjects first, they're able to finance their whole operation before they even sell a single chemical weapon. Sex trafficking is the world's largest growing criminal enterprise. Drugs are a close second - but you produce a drug, you can only sell it once. You can sell a woman or a child again and again and again. Try and do the math: if you sell just one girl 20-40 times a day, at about $200 each time, for an average two year period until you get rid of her…? The profits of the rape trade are immeasurable."

"OK, OK, just stop for a second," Peter said, trying to get things straight. "At the risk of me completely losing whatever faith I have in humanity, I have to ask… Exactly how common is this?"

"In the Academy they taught us that there are around 27 million slaves in the world today - more than we've had at any other time in history. Of course, not all of those are sex slaves, but still, it's a $32 billion dollar a year industry," Charlie said as he flipped through his file. "The Major Crimes Unit has some stats in here. Let's see...Roughly 50% of trafficking victims are under the age of 18…"

Peter and Olivia both flipped to that page and read through the figures. Peter exhaled. "You're kidding me... 2.2 million children and teens are sold into sexual slavery every single year. You know, as a guy, it makes me sick that there are enough men out there looking for kids to abuse to drive this industry. This is fucked up. They're human beings. They shouldn't have a price tag."

At that point, Lincoln walked over to them. "Hey, guys."

"Oh hi, Lincoln," Olivia said. "What does all this mean for us now?"

"Well, you and I are heading over to the dump site to check out the area and send the bodies over. Peter, if you want you can grab your father and meet us at the scene or you can just wait for the evidence to come to that lab."

"Nah, I'll pick him up from the hospital and we'll meet you there," Peter replied. He and Lincoln weren't friends or anything, but they had patched thing's up since Olivia's date and were at least civil to each other.

"Lincoln, this is my friend Charlie Francis," Olivia said. "We went to the Academy together but he's in the CAC now."

Lincoln shook his hand. "The CAC, huh? Apparently you've had a lot on your hands lately. Hopefully we can help get some of your missing kids back to their families." He turned to Olivia. "You OK to go?"

"Yeah, sure. Peter, Charlie, I'll see you guys later."

"Bye, Liv."

Lincoln and Olivia drove over to the dump site where the shipping container was left. "Where did that tip-off about the next attack come from?" she asked him.

"MCU's apparently got a few of undercover men in the ring trying to find something."

"Undercover as customers?"

"No, that'd be illegal - more as employees in the ring. They overhear some useful stuff from the bosses that way, but things are pretty compartmentalised so it's only bits and pieces of the big picture. Also, we couldn't bring them in as local organised crime bidding to buy the girls or whatever. If we bought the girls out of the ring we'd just be fuelling the industry."

"What else have they learned?"

"Not much. ZFT's suspicious so they freelance their employees and hire new ones all the time to avoid infiltration. It's been hard to keep undercovers in there for very long. If we're going to get more intel we need to maybe catch a suspect and flip him to our side, but ZFT's notorious for its fanatically loyal members. I don't know. I can't see us learning much more at this point. We just have to work with what we have."

They pulled up to the site and saw that the entire shipping container was sealed under this huge plastic tent. A CDC guy explained that they weren't sure if the toxin used to kill the girls was airborne or not, so they weren't taking any chances. As they were talking, one of the FBI agents inside the tent came running out, ripping off the head of his hazmat suit and throwing up on the side of the road. A couple of people let out shocked gasps, but Lincoln ran straight over to the fellow agent. "You alright, McNeary?"

"Yeah. I'm OK." He wiped his face and shook his head at Lincoln. "I've never seen anything like that," he said before grabbing something to drink and preparing to go back in. That's what it was like at an FBI crime scene. People would always have reactions, but they had to tough it out.

Lincoln turned back to Olivia. "This should be fun, then."

Shortly after, Walter and Peter pulled up in their own car. "Hey," Peter said, walking out into the pre-dawn darkness to meet them. "Are we ready to go in?"

"Ready when you are," said Lincoln as they started walking over.

"I have a question," Walter piped up. "Do I get to wear one of those white suits?"

"Yes, Dr Bishop. The container's locked down, so everyone going in has to be suited and checked out by the CDC."

"Marvellous! That's fantastic news, isn't it Peter?"

"Absolutely," he replied with a yawn.

"Peter, Walter, you should try and prepare yourselves," Olivia said to them. "I know this is the first crime scene you guys have come with us to, and by the sound of it, this one's particularly horrible. You don't have to stay in there if you don't want to."

They got suited up and passed through some air locked chambers of the CDC tent before reaching the shipping container. The first half of it was lined with cardboard boxes like any other container would be. About halfway down they discovered a false wall. Behind it was a small compartment just the size of an average bathroom with the remains of thirteen bodies inside - a cramped steel sarcophagus.

"Fuck…" somebody muttered, their voice breathy inside the suit. The bodies were unrecognisable. Their flesh hung gelatinous and translucent off their bones, like their skin had melted into some nauseating slime.

Peter paused at the door, before gulping and forcing himself to walk on. Olivia sent him an encouraging look as Walter scampered off to one of the bodies, already collecting samples. "This is fascinating…" he said to himself.

Lincoln and Olivia checked out the container. "They were alive in here for a while," Olivia said.

"You're right, there's water in here, food. The walls are padded to dampen any sound," Lincoln added. "We have to assume they weren't killed and then dumped in here. This room was built for transport."

"Walter, make sure you get a sample of the food and water. The toxin might have to be digested to be activated," Peter said.

"Good thinking, son! Perhaps you've discovered your true calling at last – working with me!"

"I certainly hope not," he replied, rolling his eyes.

"Maybe this is how they're trafficking the girls into the country," Olivia said. "We'll have to get the task force to start checking out connects between local shipping yards and organised crime."

"You may be right, but these girls aren't fresh off the boat" said Lincoln. "Like they were saying this morning, they sell the girls out first to finance their work. There'd be no point in killing them straight away."

"So maybe this is how they move girls around in-country. This box is legitimate, it has company signage. Anybody who pulls over the truck carrying it for some reason isn't going to search through twelve layers of cartons before they find this compartment. They could rent the girls out to brothels and labs across state lines, confusing local and state law enforcement. So, theoretically, these girls could have been trafficked into, say, Baltimore, transported to New York for work and then brought back to Boston to be experimented on and killed."

"That makes sense," Peter said. "Broyles said this morning that they were planning an attack in Boston or New York, right? Then they'd have to test the chemical weapon here."

"Why?"

"For any experiment to be reliable, the conditions must be identical in every trial," Walter explained in a rare moment of clarity. "If they plan the attack in this region, then the experiments must be in this region. Elements like climate, terrain, and urban development may be factors that determine the effectiveness of the toxin, especially if it is airborne."

"Well, this point in almost halfway between Boston and New York."

"So it could still be either one."

"Another reason for the in-country transportation might be that the girls they abducted within the US, like Charlie's vic, would have to be moved out of their state because that's where authorities are looking for them."

"Well, somebody already checked the box for serial numbers. They've been scratched off, so there's no way to trace where this came from except for the logo of an international conglomerate on the side – too general to take us anywhere. But if they are using these to transport the girls, it seems like a clumsy clue to leave lying around."

"ZFT are tricky like that," Lincoln explained. "They like to show off and play mind games leading you all over the place."

"There's no way we can identify these girls," Peter said, kneeling as he inspected a body. "They've got no fingerprints anymore, no recognisable facial features. We can't use dental records either - it appears that even the teeth and bones are disintegrating. Whoever these people are, they're going above and beyond with each new experiment. Broyles was right - they're definitely preparing for something."

"Wonderful," Olivia muttered sarcastically. "So what, we have sixteen Jane Does now? And an attack unlike anything we've seen before is on its way, and we have hardly anything to go on?"

Just then, a CDC guy came in, his footsteps heavy under the weight of his suit. "Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that we're not letting you take any bodies back to your labs. We've been running tests and whatever this is, it's contagious. Take whatever samples you can but be careful. And get it done - we've just been told we have to burn this thing at dawn."

As he left, Olivia checked her watch and noticed that they had a couple of hours left to collect samples and make observations. After all the work forensics and the CDC had already done, that was all they needed anyway. Afterwards, Peter and Walter spent their day analysing their samples while Olivia and Lincoln went to brief Broyles on their theories and get their investigation started.

After being up since 3am, the work day was as exhausting as it was hectic. When their shift was finally over, Peter and Olivia drove home and collapsed on the couch. Peter's eyes were dark and tired, and she knew why. "I'm so sorry you had to see that today. I know how awful crime scenes can be. I cried after my first, but that was nothing like this. But Peter, for that to be your first…"

"How do you do it, Livia? How do you grow up wanting to do this job and see things like that for the rest of your life?"

"I guess I always wanted to protect people," she said, nestling her back against his chest. "But now I'm feeling like we're too far behind to do much good on this one."

"We have to try, Livia. Maybe we can get some of these girls out, or even stop this attack. We won't be able to stop all the trafficking in the world, but we can do something. If we start thinking like that instead of looking at the big picture, we'll see that making a difference really is possible."

She nodded and twisted in his arms, peppering his face and lips with gentle kisses until exhaustion overwhelmed them both. "You feel good," she murmured into his chest as they held each other close.

"So do you," he replied as he drifted off to sleep.

**Please Review! I'd love to hear what you think**

**Ps. I'm studying modern slavery and human trafficking (I'm a Criminology Student) and it's a huge issue that is not heard about nearly enough. All the stats in the story are true and based on what I learn at uni. To learn more visit: **www. humantrafficking . org/


	10. The Man in the Warehouse

References: question machine (Bound), LSD caterpillars (Bound), same plane of consciousness (Bound), gerbils (The Cure), being fearless (The Transformation), the kill (Johari Window), stepfather (The Cure), shower from the inside out (Same Old Story), if you need me (The Dreamscape)

"How's it going?" Olivia asked as she walked into the lab.

"Waiting for results," Peter said in a bored tone as he looked up from his desk. "Believe it or not, science takes time."

"Do we know anything new about the murders yet?" she asked. "What chemicals were in the toxin? How does it work? How long does it take?"

"You're like a question machine!" Walter exclaimed, beaming.

She ran a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry, it's just that Broyles is really breathing down our necks about this case."

"We haven't been able to identify the exact chemicals used to create the toxin," Peter said. "It's an incredibly complex synthetic compound. Walter's tried recreating it and we've come close but we haven't quite got it."

"We tested our compounds on caterpillars! Would you like to see? We have some expendable gerbils in the back if you'd prefer."

"Umm…no thank you."

Peter laughed. "Good choice. By the way, those were the same caterpillars he was giving LSD to last week. At least they died happy, right?"

"The caterpillars have led us to believe the toxin kills about thirty seconds after exposure, but the flesh starts melting almost immediately," Walter added.

"Are you sure that's how it works for humans too?"

"My dear, I'm not even sure that we all exist on the same plane of consciousness," he said in between mouthfuls of Chinese food. "But yes, I believe so."

"We believe the toxin infects people in one of two ways," Peter explained. "The first person to get infected merely has to ingest it, but after that, they become extremely contagious. You'd only have to stand a few feet from them to become affected by the toxin yourself. So theoretically, only one of the girls in the shipping container would have had to drink the toxin in their water for the rest of them to catch it from her. It works kind of like a virus, I guess."

"Then it would be most effective in an enclosed environment where people are close together – like a plane."

"Or they could put it in the water supply, target the whole city."

"They could, but it's not ZFT's MO as a terrorist group," Olivia explained. "They prefer to attack specific targets to get their ideological messages across as opposed to a widespread, random attack. It's about showing off skill too. Any terrorist with a pipe bomb can kill people in the street. It takes a highly-evolved group of criminals to attack a specific secure location, like a plane or a government building. Anyway, I have to head back. Good work," she said as she left.

She heard Peter's footsteps behind her in the corridor and turned around. "You alright, Livia?"

"Yeah. Broyles is working us pretty hard, that's all."

"OK, well don't let it get to you too much. I know how you push yourself," he said, giving her a kiss that started small and sweet but quickly turned passionate. He wound his fingers into her hair, never wanting to let her go.

She smirked against his lips and broke away. "We have to stop making out at work," she said. "I'm sorry, but we could get in a lot of trouble if anyone found out about us. Fringe Division's under all kinds of scrutiny right now because of this case."

"Yeah, I know."

She sighed. "Lincoln said they're narrowing down some suspects so I might be going on a raid tonight."

"Another one? Be careful."

"I always am, Peter."

"You're gonna be OK?"

"I'm not scared."

"Being fearless doesn't mean your being safe."

She sighed. "I'll meet you at home tonight, OK?"

"You better," he said, touching her face. "I love you."

She smiled faintly and kissed him softly. He'd started saying that again lately, but she still wasn't ready to say it back. "I'll see you tonight," she said before walking off.

* * *

The raid was going to be a dangerous one – they knew that from the outset. They'd studied the floor plans and everything, but they still had no idea what strange things they may come across. They were taken to a warehouse in the West District and split up into teams to search the different rooms. It was dead silent. This made Olivia nervous. She couldn't escape this huge sense of dread. Olivia followed Broyles, Lincoln and some other agents through each of the rooms in their allocated sector. They found plenty of lab equipment, but no suspects.

In her peripheral vision, Olivia saw a man suddenly appear from around the corner and raise his gun in their direction. Her eyes went wide. The man fired his shot a split second before she fired hers. Blood spurting angrily from his chest was the last thing she saw before she hit the floor and blacked out.

* * *

When Olivia regained consciousness, Lincoln was pinching her nose closed, holding her head back as he leaned over her. She coughed and sucked in huge gulps of air. He jumped back. "She's breathing again!"

"Dunham, are you alright?" Broyles asked urgently.

She felt a huge pain in her stomach. She looked down and there was no blood, just a bullet lodged firmly in her vest. "What happened?" she asked, her voice coarse.

"Liv, you got shot, but you're gonna be OK. You lost consciousness."

She remembered being taught at The Academy that if a bullet hits your vest in the stomach, the force of it can stun the diaphragm and stop your breathing, suffocating you. She looked around at the medics kneeling beside her, but also noticed that a few feet away some more medics were frantically working on the suspect she shot. She leaned up but Lincoln tried to hold her back. "Liv, you need to rest."

She just pushed past him and scrambled across the warehouse floor to where the man was lying on the ground, pale and coughing up blood as medics tried to keep pressure on his chest wound. She froze. He didn't look like some monster who was trying to kill her anymore. He was just a man now.

"We're losing him," one of the medics muttered, frantically treating his wound. Moments later, the man stopped breathing.

"No," Olivia whispered. "No, no, no, no, no…" She looked him over, unable to think of how to save him. She brought her hands together over his solar plexus, giving his CPR.

"Agent Dunham, he's gone," Broyles said sympathetically.

"No, he doesn't get off that easy. No." She started another round of compressions, her hands starting to tremble. "Come on, you son of a bitch, wake up." Her calculated compressions became furious, pounding fists against his chest. "WAKE UP!"

Lincoln came and put his hand on her shoulder. "Liv, stop. There's nothing you can do."

"No, I can't be responsible for this," she said, her voice breaking. "Lincoln, I can't have killed this man, please…"

He grabbed her blood-stained hands and pulled her away from the body. 'Liv, he's gone."

"No, I have to -"

"Olivia! He's gone."

She staggered and tears came to her eyes. The room was dead silent and everyone was looking at her, not in condemnation but in pity. She felt sick to her stomach. And then she ran.

* * *

Her mother's church was quiet and dark, lit only by rows of candles along the walls. Olivia had lost whatever faith she had years ago, long before her mother stopped bringing her here, but she still found solace in this place. But not tonight. Sitting in the dark, she still felt hopeless, worthless, and entirely alone. For some reason, she tried to remember the prayers she was taught as a child. _Hail Mary, full of grace…_she thought, but after that her mind was dark as an empty barrel.

"Are you alright, dear?" a friendly nun asked her.

Olivia knew that if she opened her mouth she'd just start sobbing, so she only nodded. But her weeping face gave her away. The nun sat down next to her, handing her some tissues. Olivia took them gratefully and wiped her face. "Would you like to talk about it?" the nun asked.

Olivia shook her head.

"Dear, has someone hurt you? Is there anyone I can call? The police? Maybe a friend?"

Olivia thought about it. There was only one person she could think of who would know what this was like. She handed the nun her mobile phone and asked her to call Lincoln Lee.

It didn't take him long to get there. He hurried to the pew where Olivia was sitting, thanking the nun for calling him as she left the two of them alone. He knelt facing the altar and crossed himself before sitting down next to Olivia. She looked at him quizzically. "You're Catholic?"

He gave her a weak smile. "Only on nights like these. Is there anything I can do, Olivia?"

She shook her head, wiping her eyes. They sat in silence for a long time, shoulder to shoulder. After a while she let out a sick, wet choke of a laugh. "You know I shot my stepfather when I was nine? He'd hit my mum and I just wanted him to stop. I shot him twice, and they said that he couldn't be saved, but he didn't die. He recovered." She chuckled acerbically through her tears, although it sounded like a sob. "I shoot this guy once and he's dead on the spot. Isn't that ridiculous? Isn't that the stupidest piece of shit you've ever heard in your life?"

Lincoln looked to her solemnly. "Liv, it wasn't your fault. You had no choice."

"I had a choice. If I'd shot him in the leg or something -"

"He would have shot back. Olivia, listen to me. That man was a trained killer. If you hadn't pulled the trigger, you'd be dead."

"I don't care. Nobody deserves to die like that."

He paused, hanging his head. "The first time I killed someone, I didn't sleep right for weeks. Everyone told me I did the right thing, but I didn't feel any better. I felt less than human, amoral. It shouldn't be easy to take a life. The first time's rough. It doesn't get much easier after that, but you learn to see it objectively."

"Do you ever forgive yourself?" she asked in a tearful whimper.

He shook his head soberly. "I still haven't – not completely. Maybe one day when I'm older be at peace with this," he confessed. "Most cops go through their entire careers without ever firing a single shot on duty, let alone killing someone. But being in the FBI, in Fringe Division, we see the worst criminals and handle the worst cases. It's our honour and our burden. But it's the job." He sighed. "Liv, Broyles wanted me to tell you to take all the time you need. You'll need to see the shrink too, before you're cleared. Or, you know, you can transfer out of the task force for a while, do less-pressured work. There's no shame in that."

"No, Lincoln. This job is my life. Even back when I was just a student, it was my life."

"I understand. But you have to take care of yourself. Do you want me to take you home?"

She hesitated for a moment. "I don't know."

"Liv, go see your sister. Or Peter. It'll help, trust me."

Olivia shook her head, failing to bite back tears. "I don't know I could ever look them in the eye after this. I'm so ashamed, Lincoln. What I did…it was disgusting. I got his blood off me but now I feel like it's in my skin. I feel filthy, I…" She stopped, trying to keep herself from falling to pieces. "I've got to get clean," she said quietly, her head in her hands. "But I don't know how…"

Lincoln stood up. "Come on, Liv. I'm taking you home"

* * *

Peter heard a knock at the door that puzzled him. Olivia had a key, so he had no idea who'd be knocking on their door when it was almost midnight. He opened the door to find Lincoln standing there, looking uncertain. "Lincoln?"

"Hi Peter."

"Olivia's not here. I've tried calling, I don't know where she is."

"She's in the car," he said, trying to find his words. "Listen, something happened at work today. She won't stop crying. I didn't know where else to take her."

Peter's confusion quickly turned to panic. "What's going on? Is she hurt?"

"Peter, we went on a raid and Liv…" He trailed off, unsure of how to say it.

"Lincoln! Tell me what's wrong with her right now!" he demanded.

"She was put in a position where she had to defend herself with her service weapon. She was shot in the stomach, but her vest protected her from anything more than a bruise. But Peter, she shot back at the suspect. We treated him on the scene, but he didn't make it."

Peter ran a hand over his head. "Oh my God"

"We talked about it, but she's really upset. I thought you'd be able to help."

Peter pushed past him to run down to the car. He saw her sitting in the front passenger seat, curled into a ball. His heart broke at the sight. He had no idea what to say to her. He never thought this would happen when she was just starting out. Lincoln gave them space by waiting on the steps to their apartment.

Peter opened the car door and Olivia looked up at him with bleary eyes. "Peter?"

He cupped her face in his hands, wiping away her tears. "Yeah, sweetheart. It's me."

She collapsed into sobs then, and he held her fiercely in a tight hug, his hand cradling the back of her head. He had no idea what happened on the raid, but he was unbelievably grateful that she was alive for him to hold. "Livia, sweetheart, I'm so sorry this happened to you," he whispered sincerely.

She just kept crying. She could barely get her words out in between sobs. "I didn't mean to," she choked out. "I was so scared."

"I know, Livia. I can't possibly understand what you're going through right now, but sweetheart, you need to know that no matter what happened tonight, I love you so, so much."

"I tried to save him. I tried so hard," she sobbed, her tears soaking through his shirt. "There was so much blood. I tried but he wouldn't wake up. It was horrible…"

"I know you did everything you could. Sweetheart, come inside with me. We can get you something to eat, go to bed."

She pulled away. "I just want to take a shower from the inside out."

"Livia, come inside. Please."

She finally quieted down and nodded, going with him to their apartment. Lincoln was still sitting on the steps. She sent him a grateful look and went on upstairs but Peter stopped. "Thank you for bringing her home, Lincoln. You have no idea how much I appreciate it."

"It's no problem. Call me if she needs to talk, OK? I've been where she is right now and I know how awful it is."

"Of course. Thank you." He gave Lincoln an honest handshake and went back up to the apartment. "Olivia do you want some tea or something?" he asked her, but she just shook her head.

"I'm going to have a shower," she muttered, walking past him to the bathroom and locking the door behind her. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. She was going to start closing herself off now. She always did. He was making dinner for her when he noticed she'd been in there for a really long time - too long for there to be any hot water left.

He knocked on the bathroom door. "Livia, you OK in there?"

"Go away," was her weak reply.

"Not until I'm sure you're alright."

"I'm fine."

"Could've fooled me. Come on, Livia, I'm trying here. Will you let me in?"

"Just leave me alone."

"I'm not going."

Olivia opened the door wrapped in a towel, her hair wet and her eyes red. "What do you want?" she snapped at him. He looked her over and saw that patches of her body were red, indicating that she'd scrubbed her skin raw.

He took one of her hands and inspected it. "Damn, Livia, what have you done to yourself?"

"Don't touch me," she spat, jerking away. Peter pushed past her and turned off the now freezing water, grabbing some lotion from the cabinet. "What are you doing?"

"You're done in here."

"Peter!"

He held her wrist and led her to her room, sitting her down on the bed. He knelt before her and squeezed some lotion onto his hands. "You shouldn't hurt yourself like that, Livia." She ignored him and looked away. He reached for her hand. "This might sting a bit."

He started rubbing the lotion onto her raw skin, making her hiss and recoil at his touch. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Forget it."

"Do you want to get dressed and eat something?" She only shook her head in response. "Should I call Lincoln? Charlie? Rachael? It might help just to talk to them, even if you don't talk about what happened." She shook her head again and he kept rubbing the lotion on her hands and forearms. He placed a kiss on inside of her wrist and put the bottle down beside her bed. "I'll leave you to get dressed. Please come out and eat something when you're done, OK? Please."

She nodded and he left her alone, wondering what he could possibly do to help her. Eventually she came out and agreed to eat something – not much but it was better than nothing. "I'm going to bed," she said after a while.

"OK. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No. I just need to be alone right now."

"Let me know if you need anything. I'm just down the hall."

"I'm OK, Peter."

"If you're so OK then why can't you look at me?" he asked gently, brushing some hair behind her ear. "Olivia, you did what any sane person would have done. I can't imagine how hard this is, but I want to help. Livia, if you need me, I'm here."

"I know."

He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I love you."

"Don't lie to me," she whispered. "How could you?" Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears and she shook her head a little.

"Livia, you know I do. That doesn't change because of what happened tonight. You have to understand that, OK? Try and get some rest." She nodded and walked down the corridor to her room, closing the door behind her.

Peter went to his own room and fell into a restless, shallow sleep. He woke up early in the morning to a sound outside his room. Getting up and walking down the corridor, he found Olivia in the bathroom again, throwing up into the toilet. He hurried over and held her hair back, trying to soothe her. She wasn't crying – she looked frozen, scared. She was shaking. Her eyes were wide and she wouldn't speak. After a while she settled and went to brush her teeth to rid her mouth of the acrid taste.

"I can't sleep," she finally said, still not looking him in the eye.

He just nodded, having expected that. "Just keep trying," he said. They went to her room and she got under the covers. He knelt down by her side and kissed her forehead. "Do you want me to stay?" he asked. She silently nodded and shifted in the bed to make room for him. He hesitantly got in and held her in his arms, her head resting against the warmth of his chest. It took hours, but they both finally slept. He held her through every nightmare or troubling thought. And he was still holding her when they woke up in the morning.

**Please review this chapter! I always appreciate your thoughts : )**


	11. Solace

**References: Dr Katz (The Dreamscape), "the only choices you have left" (Jacksonville), "to say that you've experienced a trauma" (Marionette), "For being my friend" (Olivia), "Try not to sound so shocked" (6955 kHz), "If you keep going…" (3x02 Fringe/Bones promo)**

Olivia stood in front of her bedroom mirror, her fingers gently smoothing over the bruised skin of her stomach in a kind of self-comfort. It was finally starting to fade, turning a yellowy-green, but at its worst it had been an angry black-purple, larger than the size of her hand splayed against it. It was strange how much force a tiny piece of metal could carry behind it.

She heard a creak in the floorboards and saw Peter standing at the door of her room, leaning against the frame. "You OK?" he asked.

She nodded, turning back to the mirror and lifting the hem of her shirt to stare at the bruise again. It was horrible. She hated that it was there – a constant reminder of everything that had happened marring her pale skin. Peter gently walked over. "Let me see," he said, inspecting it tenderly. "It's healing."

She nodded, letting her shirt fall back down and brushing her hair to distract herself.

"You're going in?" he asked.

"Broyles wants to see me about coming back. Apparently I passed my psych-eval but he can be a hard man to convince." She went quiet and kept getting ready, not looking at Peter.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked her.

"I want to go back…"

"But…"

She just shook her head and dropped it a little.

"Livia," he pushed gently.

"Peter, everyone knows." Her voice was small. "Everyone I work with – they all know what I did."

"Hey…" he whispered, cupping her face. "Yeah, they know. But they also know how hard it is. Most of the other Fringe agents have been where you are right now. They won't be judging you. They'll just be glad that you're safe. I know I am."

She smiled weakly and gave him a soft, tender kiss that spoke volumes to him even in its simplicity. He knew she loved him, even if she still wasn't ready to say it out loud.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I shouldn't be too long. I'll pick up some dinner for us after and meet you back here, OK?"

"Sure."

She kissed him again, but paused afterwards.

"What?"

"Nothing," she replied, shaking off whatever she was thinking. "I'll see you tonight."

She was still a little nervous going to the Federal Building, but Peter had reassured her somewhat. Everyone else she walked past was really supportive, saying they were glad to see she was back. Peter was right – she didn't feel like anyone was condemning her.

When she entered Broyles' office, he stood from his desk to shake her hand as she approached. "It's a pleasure to have you back, Dunham," he said earnestly. "Have a seat."

"Thank you, sir."

"I've spoken to Dr Katz," he began. "Don't worry, the specifics of your conversations are entirely confidential, but he says that while you are still processing the incident you seem ready to resume your work here. Do you agree?"

"Yes, sir. I'd very much like to come back."

"I understand that you're keen, Dunham. You always have been. But as your boss I have to move carefully here. As you know, we're under a lot of scrutiny in this office. That being said, I'd like to bring you back on a…probationary basis. You can start on Monday if you wish. You'll be carrying out your regular duties but no raids or other dangerous activities yet. Does that sound fair?"

"Yes, sir."

"We can put you on a different case if you're uncomfortable working in this task force anymore."

She shook her head. "I could have died in that raid against ZFT. That man shot me. I want to see it through."

He sighed. "Dunham, how have you been coping since the incident?"

She hesitated and bit her lip. "I keep going over it," she finally confessed. "I keep trying to figure out what I could have done differently."

"There are times when the only choices you have left are bad ones," he said solemnly. "Dunham, to say that you've experienced a trauma is an understatement, but things could have been a lot worse if you hadn't acted the way you did. You were the first in the team to see the shooter. Taking quick, instinctive action as you did may have prevented him from killing yourself or a fellow agent."

"Did we ever find out who he was?" she asked tentatively.

He pulled out a file and placed it in front of her. "We didn't find much. He spent most of his life off the grid."

She reached for the file hesitantly. While she was uncomfortable about this, she knew it was important to understand who it was that she killed. Seeing his photo was painful, but it was necessary. "Nicholas Rafael Delucia," she read in a whisper. "That was his name."

"36 years old. He was an Italian national originally, then a British citizen. He's been involved in organised crime since he was a teenager. It appears he was initially working in Europe trafficking women to the US, and then he got involved with ZFT cells based here." 

"No family?"

"None that we can find. He was probably orphaned as a child in Rome and fell into local organised crime there. It's not uncommon."

She shook her head, closing the file. That was just fucking sad.

"I know what you're thinking, Dunham. He had a hard go of it. But he was involved in this lifestyle for 20 years - committing crimes and ruining lives. He tried to kill you. I'm not saying he deserved to die, but going the way he was going…Sometimes it's hard not to kill a man who's already about the business of killing himself."

She nodded, but the thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. One she couldn't swallow down. She shook her head to clear it.

"Dunham," Broyles pressed gently. "Are you _sure_ you're ready to come back?"

"Yes. I need my life back, sir."

"I'll see you on Monday, then. And Dunham, if you're having second thoughts, I want you to come to me. Alright?"

"Yes, sir."

He stood and shook her hand. "Go get some rest. You're gonna need it."

Afterwards, she waited outside the building for Charlie to meet her after work and they walked through the nearby park. "Do you think you're really ready to come back to work?" he asked her after a while.

"I want to be there, Charlie."

"I know. But it's not the same thing."

She paused. "I'm not sure anymore. I mean, I _hope_ I'm ready…." She trailed off, looking at the ground.

"Liv, I know there's something else bothering you. You can tell me."

She bit her lip and the threat of tears stung her eyes, but she took a deep breath and suppressed them. "I learned his name today," she finally said. "The man from the raid."

"Oh Liv…It's not your -"

"Oh God, don't say that sentence again. Please," she interrupted. "I've had so many people tell me it's not my fault it just feels more and more like a lie every time I hear it."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

She shook her head to tell him not to worry about it and rubbed her bleary eyes. "Everybody keeps trying to convince me he was an animal, or a monster. They say that because he shot me he was only bringing it on himself. Hell, even Broyles said that," she scoffed. "But he had a name, Charlie. He was a person. I mean, he was a child once. And I know the file said he had no family we knew of, but he has a mother somewhere. Everyone has a mother. He was born in one of the poorest, most dangerous areas of Rome, probably orphaned and recruited by gangs..." Her voice started cracking. "I mean, the guy never had a chance, Charlie. He was fucked. From the beginning. That was his life. And because of me, he'll never have a chance to get out of that world."

"Do you really think he would have?"

"Peter did."

"Peter was lucky," Charlie reminded her. He sighed. "Olivia, you're right. He was a person and he deserved a second chance. But so do you. Liv, that whole shootout happened within a split second. There was no way to think about it or consider the options. There was no warning. You can't plan that shit, Liv. It's life. You acted on gut instinct and a sincere desire to live and for that reason, you're standing here today and he hasn't got the chance to change his life. He hasn't got the chance to do anything at all, but you do, Olivia. God, Liv, you still have a life! Peter still has a girlfriend, and Rachael still has a sister and I still have my best friend. If you really believe that this man deserved a second chance then you have to turn that back on yourself and be glad that you got one, Olivia. You have to, or this thing's gonna eat you whole."

She nodded and blinked her tears away. Even though she knew he was right, she still found it hard to look at him as she was collecting herself. "I have to go. I told Peter I'd go home after I saw Broyles."

"OK. Take care of yourself, Livvy," he replied, giving her a warm hug.

"Thanks, Charlie," she whispered earnestly.

"For what?"

"For being my friend," she said, pulling away. "I'll see you at work on Monday, OK?"

"Can't wait," he said, grinning at her.

As she walked back through the park, she kept thinking about what Charlie said, and for the first time since the shooting, she felt grateful. She'd been so caught up in wrestling with her morality that she forgot to appreciate that she was alive. As she walked through the park, she took in how beautiful it was. She walked past the swings she and Peter sat on the night he told her about Cape Town, on that hill overlooking the sunset over the city. Her mind was filled with memories, and imaginings of things to come. Charlie was right. She couldn't let this destroy her. She still had a life. And she wasn't going to waste a single moment of it.

She picked up some dinner and walked back to her apartment. When she got there, soft piano music wafted down the corridor to meet her. The other day, she and Peter were at some markets and a man was selling 2nd hand pianos. Peter immediately fell in love with one made of old chocolate brown mahogany - an upright piano, rather than a grand. It was falling to pieces, but still had a beautiful sound and an interesting design so Peter bought it and vowed to restore it. It had taken him forever. Sometimes Olivia would hear him at 3am when he couldn't sleep - hammering, sanding and polishing the old thing into submission. He had refused to let her see it or play it himself until it was perfect. She followed the music to its source until she found Peter sitting at the piano, now completely restored and looking unbelievable.

Olivia walked into his room and smiled. He stopped playing and stood, about to speak, but she shook her head to silence him and urge him to keep going. She sat down beside him on the stool as he played some sweet melody for her. As she listened, she ran her hands over the newly polished wood, over every design he had carved, until she reached the music rack above the keyboard. It was carved so it looked like a huge stretch of vines or tree branches rather than a flat piece of wood to rest sheet music against. Behind it, in the top right corner of the upper panel, he'd carved a single word. _Olivia._

He finished the piece and looked to her. She smiled. "You know, you said you could play, but you never told me you were actually good."

He chuckled. "Try not to sound so shocked."

"I'm not," she replied, kissing his cheek and resting her head on his shoulder. Her fingers reached out again and touched the cool surface of the wood. "It's wonderful," she said earnestly. "But why my name?"

"Oh, the piano's not named after you, it's this other Olivia I know," he joked. She laughed and nudged him. He absentmindedly fingered the keys. "Livia, it's like with boats. It's kind of clichéd, but guys always name them after the women they love."

"It's beautiful," she praised. "I can't believe you did all this."

He shrugged and kissed her hair. "How did it go with Broyles?"

"He wants me back on Monday – probationally, anyway."

"That's great!"

She shrugged. "He gave me rope. We'll see if I swing or hang on it."

"Livia, you're gonna be fine. You'll have a lot of support. Just take it one day at a time."

She smiled and kissed him, then tilted her head outside to the kitchen. "You wanna eat?"

"Sure." They went out to get the dinner and snacks she'd brought home and settled on the couch to watch a movie. Eventually they abandoned their food to lie back on the couch together, so she sat between his knees, his arms around her waist. But Olivia was barely watching the movie. As she nestled against Peter's chest, she couldn't help but go over what Charlie said in her mind – she was alive and so she shouldn't let chances get away from her. She looked up to Peter with a knot of anxiety in her stomach, but she willed herself to push past it.

"What?" he chuckled, noticing she was looking up at him.

"I should have told you before," she said softly, suddenly shy. She looked down at their entwined fingers as they rested over her stomach.

"Told me what?" he asked.

"That I love you."

His eyes went wide for a second but then the most joyous smile she'd ever seen adorned his face. "You do?" She nodded and he laughed, kissing her. "You've got no idea how much I've wanted to hear you say that."

"I'm sorry. I've been meaning to tell you. I guess I just kept getting scared."

"Hey, don't apologise. Saying it to someone for the first time is supposed to be hard. I'm just glad you told me. I love you, too."

She sat up and twisted around to kiss him fully. Immediately responding, he wound his fingers through her hair and ran his tongue along her lower lip until she allowed him access. Not breaking the kiss, she hooked her finger in the collar of his t-shirt and pulled him down on top of her as she lay back against the couch. The heat between them intensified as he lay over her, their bodies flush against each other. Her fingers made their way into his hair and down his back, while his hands roamed over her thighs and sides. While the kissing had started out slow and languid, it became hard and ardent, setting a slow-burning fire in the pit of their stomachs. They drove each other crazy wanting more, always more. He felt her grip fistfuls of his shirt and, taking the plunge, slid his hand underneath hers to rest on her hip. She shuddered a little and her breath caught – it fascinated him that he could do that to her. Careful to avoid her bruise, he caressed the bare skin of her belly, making her whimper softly into his mouth. This was getting too much for her to handle.

"Peter…" she murmured breathlessly against him.

He stole away whatever words were coming next with a kiss as his hand went to undo the top couple of buttons of her shirt.

"Peter, wait…"

He looked down at her. She could feel his breath on her face. "Are you OK?"

"Yeah, it's just…If you keep going, I'm not going to be able to able to stop."

"And that would be a problem because…?" He smirked cheekily, leaning back down to kiss her neck and collarbone.

She shuddered again but out of nerves this time. "Peter, please. No more." She pushed him back firmly and propped herself up on her elbows. He stared back at her, breathless, aroused and confused. By this point her hair was all messed up, her lips were swollen, her cheeks were flushed and her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her cleavage now visible through the undone buttons of her shirt. But that was always the problem with Olivia Dunham - Peter never knew which part of her to look at.

"I'm sorry," he said, finally finding his voice. "I didn't mean to make you -"

"It's OK. I'm sorry, too," she said, touching his face. "I wish I was ready for this. I know we did it that one time back in Quantico, but this all feels new to me. It's different now – we're different. And with everything that's happened lately I just don't think this is the right time. I'm not saying 'No'. I'm just saying 'Not yet'. Is that OK?"

He chuckled. "Of course it's OK. I don't want you to have second thoughts about this. And you're right – things have been hard for us lately. I don't want it to be like last time where we did it because we were scared and desperate. I want both of us to be sure. I want us to be happy."

"Me too," she said, smiling sweetly. "It's late, we better get to bed. I'll see you in the morning, OK? I love you."

"I love you, too," he replied, unable to wipe that stupid grin off his face. He couldn't get over the fact that she was saying it.

After all this time they were finally on the same page. He was convinced there was no better feeling in the world.

**Please Review after that dose of P/O!**


	12. Anya

**References: Olivia/Lincoln conversation (The Plateau), Walter's greeting (Marionette), custard (A New Day in the Old Town), Walter being mad (The Arrival), pot (Brown Betty), the sweetest things (Same Old Story), keeping secrets (Immortality)**

The first person Olivia saw on her first day back was Lincoln. "Welcome back Agent Dunham!" he said with a kind smile. "No worse for wear – you look like you got some rest."

"Yeah, it feels good to be back, though."

"Well, we could really use your help. This case is frustrating as ever."

"I can imagine," she said. "By the way, don't think I've forgotten you owe me seventy dollars."

"Damn, I was hoping you'd forget about that. Can't I just pay you back in Red Vines and after-work drinks?"

"No, Lincoln."

"Damn, girl, you've got no forgiveness to your soul. You know what I just realised? That I didn't miss you at all – not even an itty, little bit."

"Come on, you were lost without me. Admit it," she teased him.

"Yeah, yeah."

"So what are we doing now?"

"Just tracing the articles seized in the raid - suspects' cars, equipment, stuff like that."

They got to work but kept hitting dead ends. Everything in that warehouse was completely clean. After a while Olivia sighed. "We're getting nowhere with this. What have you guys learned since the raid?"

"Not that much to be honest. We've interrogated every suspect in that warehouse a hundred times but they're fiercely loyal to ZFT. The Bishop boys and Massive Dynamic have been working on the evidence we found. It appears that the lab workers there were trying to synthesise a new toxin. Liv, I don't know what ZFT is doing. They just keep making new weapons. They can do so much damage already, but they're looking for something _perfect_. That kind of freaks me out, you know? I mean, if what they've come up with so far doesn't meet their standards, what does?"

"Do you want me to go to the lab and see if they have anything new?"

"Yeah, sure."

So Olivia drove over to Harvard, and as soon as she walked in the door she was bombarded by Walter. "Look who's here!" he exclaimed, beaming. "Oh, it's good to see you out and about. Look, Peter, it's Olivia!"

"Hi," Olivia said awkwardly.

"I made custard," Walter said enthusiastically. "To welcome you back."

"Um, thank you, Walter."

Peter laughed and put a hand on Walter's shoulder. "Alright, alright, settle down. Liv, we just got lunch. You want some?"

"Sure."

They sat at the table, digging through boxes of Chinese food. Peter went immediately for the fortune cookies and cracked one open.

Olivia looked confused. "You eat the cookie first?"

"All ends up in the same place, doesn't it?" He took out his message. "'Never cut what you can untie, for it is better to be the head of a chicken than the tail of an ox.' Whatever that means."

"The message is obscure but understandable, Peter," Walter said.

"Oh really? Care to elaborate?"

"My boy, if I even attempted to explain it to you, you might think me mad."

"Don't worry, there's no chance of that happening," Peter responded sarcastically.

Olivia smirked and dug for a cookie. Opening it, she grinned at Peter. "Mine says, 'Rarely do great beauty and great virtue dwell together as they do in you.' Awww."

"That wasn't even a fortune, it was just a compliment!" Peter argued.

"You're just jealous because my cookie was nice to me. Yours was just cryptic."

"Whatever," Peter said, finally moving on to fumble through his noodles. Olivia started laughing at him.

"What?" he asked.

"I can't believe you're still so bad at using chopsticks," she teased.

He rolled his eyes. "Sorry I'm not Asian."

"Well, I'm doing just fine," she gloated, popping some veggies in her mouth to emphasise her point.

"Look, some people just can't do it, OK?"

"You know, for a guy so good with his hands it's kind of embarrassing you can't use a simple pair of -"

"Fine. I'll just go get a fork or something," he said in a frustrated tone, getting up.

She grabbed his arm and pulled him back, still laughing at his reaction. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry I teased you. Here," she said, taking her hair elastic out and letting her hair fall around her shoulders as she shook it out. She grabbed his chopsticks, tying her elastic around the end.

"Ah, the rubber band trick," he said.

She smiled and gave them back to him. "Maybe now you'll be able to actually nourish yourself."

"She has a point, Peter," Walter said. "I myself have witnessed little Asian children use chopsticks with greater skill than you."

"Well, they have some inherent kung-fu skill I missed out on, coz I definitely can't use these. But the rubber band helps, sweetheart," he added with a smile to Olivia.

She coyly dipped her head and let her hair sweep over her face. He knew she was awkward about him inferring they were together in public, seeing as nobody was supposed to know. Luckily Walter was too wrapped up in his lunch to notice. "Try some custard, Peter. It's my specialty."

"Walter, I've told you I don't like custard. In fact, I've never liked custard."

"As a boy you loved it. You've forgotten."

Olivia toyed with her spoon, looking between her custard bowl and Peter. "This isn't gonna poison me or anything, right?"

"Can't make any promises, Livia."

She gulped and tried the custard, smiling in surprise at Walter, who was watching her in anticipation. "This is actually really nice." She took another huge mouthful, then another. "Oh my gosh, Peter, you have to try this."

Peter's eyes flew wide open as a horrible thought occurred to him. "Walter, please tell me you didn't put any Brown Betty in that custard. What did I tell you? Rule number four of Walter's lab: no dosing people, especially federal agents!"

"Oh no, son, it's merely an innocent dessert."

"What's Brown Betty?" Olivia asked.

"My personal marijuana strain, dear. It's a hybrid of Chronic Supernova and Afghani Kush. A marvellous invention…"

"But she's a cop so she doesn't need to hear the details, Walter."

"I'm not hearing anything," Olivia said playfully. "So what's happening with the case?"

"Well we looked at the latest weapon those warehouse guys were working on," Peter said. "This one's a lot of fun. It boils you're brain until you're head explodes."

"Through the use of time released radio-active capsules in the bloodstream – it's a medical treatment similar to chemotherapy," added Walter.

"But here these isotopes are activated to the point where they cause friction between brain cells, causing heat, causing the head explosion. It's kind of like how a microwave oven cooks food – except in this case, the victim is the oven."

"Allow me to demonstrate!" exclaimed Walter as he wheeled in a contraption containing a dolled up piece of fruit.

Peter leaned over and whispered in Olivia's ear. "He's been waiting all day for this."

"To understand how the weapon works, we'll use Mr Papaya! This is upsetting because he is the friendliest of fruits," he explained as he turned on the machine and the papaya exploded. "We believe that with humans the radiation used to activate these isotopes is powerful enough to affect several people standing near the person who treated."

"So this could be used in a suicide attack? Like, one person with the isotopes gets activated in a crowd boiling the brains of everyone around them as well as their own?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"I'll have to go through ZFT's records and see if they have a history of suicide terrorism." At that point her phone started ringing and she excused herself to answer it. "Dunham."

"Hey, Liv," said Charlie. "Boston General just called. They've got a suicide attempter who they think was repeatedly sexually assaulted. She speaks some kind of Slavic language, no English. They found her in the water off the docks - she says she jumped off a ship but she's not saying anything else. Broyles wants you and Lincoln to go interview her coz you're a girl. We need more women in this department, I swear."

"We need more women in the FBI, Charlie, but thanks for the revelation. By the way, Peter's going to send over some info on the latest weapon. I need you to see if ZFT has ever done suicide terrorism, especially anything involving exploding brains."

"Girl, you say the sweetest things."

"Only to you, Charlie. Talk to you later."

She hung up and went back to Peter, who was still eating while Walter was off engrossed in his latest experiment. "I have to go chase a lead," she told him. "See you at home tonight?"

"Sure. I promised Walter I'd take him out for milkshakes, so I'll be late."

"It's fine," she said, stepping closer. Checking quickly to see that Walter was still distracted, she leaned down to kiss him softly on the lips. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too. Be safe."

"Always," she said as she left.

Lincoln drove her to the hospital where they were met by an FBI translator. "The doctors say she has several broken bones from the suicide attempt, but she's expected to recover and she's able to speak now," the translator explained.

"So do you do this a lot? Talk to trafficked girls?" Olivia asked.

She kind of smiled wryly. "All the time. I wish men buying women was rare, but it's not."

They were about to go into the girl's room when Lincoln stopped and gave Olivia a lapel-mic. "Aren't you coming?" she asked.

"It'll be easier for her to talk without a male presence in the room."

"But I've never interviewed a victim on my own before."

"I think you're ready for it, kiddo. You'll do fine. I'll be listening and recording it all just in case, alright?"

"OK," Olivia said, heading in with the translator. She was taken aback - the girl in the hospital bed looked destroyed. Beyond her recent injuries she had older bruises, especially around her face. Someone had definitely brutalised this girl.

Olivia hesitantly sat down with the translator. "Hello. My name's Olivia. What's yours?"

The translator talked with the girl and relayed back. "She says her name is Anya. She's Croatian."

"How old is she?"

"21. She wants to know why you're here."

"I'm with the FBI," Olivia explained. "We're police working to find the people who hurt you."

Anya recoiled when she heard this, shaking her head. "She won't talk to any police," the translator interpreted. "She doesn't trust you."

"Tell her I'm here to help her."

Anya spoke frantically for a while, angry tears burning in her eyes. "She says the police are involved. She even had two American cops hurt her before she arrived in Boston."

"Tell her I'm part of a very dedicated group of people who've been working day and night for months to track down the men who hurt her. She's safe now and we can help keep her safe."

Anya's face looked broken and she started to weep. "She says you didn't try hard enough," the translator said. "It's too late for her now."

Olivia stared empathetically at the girl and recognised her expression. Recognised that way she held herself, that way her eyes kept shifting nervously around the room. That shame. She knew that shame.

"You feel disgusting, don't you?" Olivia asked her gently. "You feel worthless – like nobody's gonna want you anymore. Not your family. Not your friends. You keep remembering it. Every detail – and you wish you could forget but you can't. You can still feel their breath, their sweat on your body, their hands. And the smell – God, the smell. You feel like it's in your skin. You're left feeling filthy and ashamed and alone – this ruined girl. And you feel like nobody could possibly love you ever again."

Anya started crying. "She says, 'How did you know that?' " interpreted the translator.

Olivia bit her lip, knowing Lincoln was listening. "Tell her I was sexually assaulted last year," she said, and the translator obeyed. "Anya, I need you to tell me what happened. We're trying so hard to find the people who brought you here, but we can't do that without your help. There are so many other girls just like you out there. This could really help them. Please."

Anya cried some more then finally nodded. "She wants you to promise her something first," relayed the translator. "She has a son in Zagreb. He's a year old. The people who took her know where he lives and said they'd hurt him if she did anything. She has to be sure her son is kept safe."

"Let me get her son's details and we can arrange to bring him to the US under protective custody." They got all her information and Olivia was sure that Lincoln would already be calling it in outside.

"Anya," Olivia said. "I know this is difficult, but I need you to explain what happened to you in as much detail as possible. Even little things may be important."

She nodded tearfully. "I got pregnant when I was 19," the translator interpreted. "My boyfriend didn't stay and my father disowned me, so I was left to raise Ari alone. I worked day and night to support him while we lived with my sister. One day a woman approached me at work. It seemed innocent. She was concerned about my situation and offered me a job in Italy at this new company she was opening up. It would only be for a few months, but the money was good. So I left Ari with my sister and went with this lady to Italy, and I gave her my passport and other travel papers to keep. Other girls came with us and they were all very poor young women like me. But we didn't get a plane or a boat. We took trucks all the way through Slovenia to get there, illegally crossing the borders. The woman said it was to cut costs, but I knew something was wrong. When we got to Italy, the woman left us and we were split up and taken to different cities. I was going to Napoli with two other girls. I got really scared then. The men who were driving us had guns. They said it was for our protection but I knew they were lying. I demanded to know what was happening and they told us we'd be sold as prostitutes. I freaked out, saying I'd never do that and they had the wrong idea about me. But they said that after all the transport and accommodation they'd given me, I already owed them thousands of dollars and I couldn't go back to my son until I earned it back. They stopped the truck in a field and raped all three of us for hours. They knew we weren't virgins so they could do whatever they wanted with us before we were sold. I tried to fight them off, I tried. But they were so strong…"

"I know," Olivia said. "I know you did everything you could. It wasn't your fault."

Anya wept and kept going. "We were taken to a brothel in Napoli where we met other girls from all over Europe, even some American tourists who were kidnapped. We were sold there for a couple of months – about twenty men every day, sometimes more. Then I was told I'd be going to America with some other girls – they can charge more for us here. We were put on a boat, in one of those big shipping containers. The sailors gave us food and water, but they still raped us whenever they wanted. After weeks we docked in Baltimore. Some border police came on board to inspect the ship but our captors paid them off and let them rape us so they would keep quiet. We switched boats and were on our way up hear to Boston. I couldn't imagine what was going to happen to me once I got here. So that night when one of the sailors came for me, I broke away from him and ran until I jumped off the side of the boat. I just wanted to die. I still do. I couldn't do it anymore. I just couldn't."

"Thank you, Anya," Olivia said. "You're being so brave. I just have to ask you, do you remember anything else? Any names, maybe?"

Anya thought about it. "Wait," she said. "I overheard them talking about a man that sounded like their boss - Conrad. They said something about him making a weapon, about him being part of the war. I don't know what it meant."

"No, that's really helpful. Thank you so much, Anya. If you need anything at all you can contact this translator or me. I'm going to go and see if we can track down your son. I promise we will do everything we can to keep both of you safe," Olivia said as she left.

Lincoln met her outside. She ran a hand over her face. "And to think there are 27 million people with stories like that."

"You did well in there, kiddo," he said with a kind smile as they walked to his car.

"I hope so."

"And Liv," he said, his fingers resting lightly on her arm. "I'm sorry about what happened last year."

She shrugged and looked away. "I'm past it."

"Are you?"

"For the most part," she admitted, feeling like after dropping that bombshell she owed him an explanation. "It was my law teacher at The Academy. He didn't rape me but he came close. I still get nightmares sometimes. I was lucky enough to fight him off in real life, but in my dreams he always wins. It's awful."

"Wait a sec," Lincoln said, recognition crossing his face. "You're one of Harris' girls, aren't you?"

She nodded, shocked. The trial was supposed to be covert. "I was the one who blinded him. How did you hear about that?"

"Scandal like that, word gets out in the bureau. But they've managed to keep it from the public at least." He put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm really sorry that happened to you, Liv."

She just smiled faintly. They got into his car and started driving back to the Federal Building. "At least we have a name to research now – Conrad."

"I've already got agents on it," said Lincoln. "And someone else is tracking down Ari."

"I can't believe this. We've had male undercovers in the business for months and they've never been able to give us the name of their boss."

"I suppose the traffickers are more suspicious of their freelancers than their girls so they're less careful around them. She was lucky she heard something."

"Maybe we need to try this undercover thing from a different angle," said Olivia. "We're only getting smaller pieces of the picture from the male UCs. I know this sounds insane, but if we started sending women in -"

"As what, Olivia? The _merchandise_? You're fucking joking." Lincoln was fuming, gripping the steering wheel.

"Of course it's dangerous, but this attack could be tomorrow for all we know. We've tried everything else."

"And who the fuck's gonna sign up for that kind of UC work? You? It's insane."

"I know it is. But it may be our way to get some real traction on these people."

"This is bullshit," he muttered to himself, pulling over on the side of the road. He turned off the engine and rubbed his temples.

"Lincoln, what's wrong?"

"Liv…Broyles is way ahead of you. The Pentagon's putting us under enormous pressure to stop ZFT's attack and they're already tossing around the idea of female UCs."

"How do you know?"

"Broyles told me they're considering you for the job. After all there aren't many women in Fringe Division and you're the youngest. Objectively it makes sense. But you're just a junior agent. He doesn't want to send you but he thinks he's running out of options. He told me to keep it a secret, but you know me – I can't keep a secret."

"Shit…" she muttered. "You're serious."

"He'll probably ask you soon." He ran a hand down his face before looking her dead in the eyes. "Liv…You have to say no. I know you'd march into hell to save another person, but you can't do this. Please. We know what's happening to those girls -"

"Lincoln, settle down. He hasn't even asked me yet. Let's just cross that bridge when we come to it, OK?"

Lincoln sighed and shook his head a little, starting the car and driving her home. The whole ride was tensely silent, leaving both of them at the mercy of the dark imaginations raging inside their heads.

**Please Review this chap!**

**There are 27 million slaves in the world today with stories just like Anya's. If you are interested in some small ways you can help fight Human Trafficking, check this out this list of 21 ways to help (but delete the spaces in the link, FF doesn't like websites): **

**www. the a21 campaign. org/ index. php? option= com_content &view= article &id= 150&Itemid =308& lang=en**


	13. The Piano

**References: oboe lessons (The Equation), "get to know me" (Snakehead), "it's beautiful" (6B), "with me" (Over There: Part 2), **

When Lincoln dropped Olivia home from the hospital, Peter wasn't there yet. She walked into her empty apartment and sank back against the door, running her hands through her hair. It had been a long day. She looked around her apartment and scoffed a little. Meeting Anya had really made her realise how fortunate she was. She was only 23 but she already had this home, a good job, a really sweet boyfriend, and friends and family who loved her. She thought about what Lincoln had told her about undercover work, but she pushed those hypotheticals from her mind. She didn't know it was happening yet, so there was no point letting it stress her out. Today she just wanted to feel grateful.

She had a shower and put on some more comfortable clothes, waiting for Peter to come home. Absentmindedly, she ended up in his room, sitting at the piano he'd restored. He'd done amazing things with it, carving out designs in the wood. Running her fingers over her chiselled name always made her smile. It was this small but powerful and tangible gesture that proved to yet again that he adored her. She delicately fingered the keys, warming to the sound but struggling to remember what little she learned about music in that six months she played the oboe back in primary school. She laughed to herself, knowing she was terrible at these things.

A little while later she heard Peter come through the front door. "Livia, you home?" he called out.

"In here."

He walked over and leant against the doorframe to his room. "Hey," he said with an amused smile on his face. "Kicking the FBI to become a musician, are we?"

She chuckled. "Hardly. I'm not very musical. Where did you learn how to play?"

He sat down beside her on the stool. "Walter made me take lessons when I was a kid. I hated it, but it started paying off for me in high school so I kept it up."

"Were you a marching band geek or something?" she teased.

He laughed. "Me? Hell no. I was way too cool for that. No, my friends and I started a band - coz, you know, girls thought it was hot. I was the keyboardist. It was the only reason I even showed up at school half the time. For a while we were convinced we'd be famous one day but looking back we were probably terrible."

"Well, I think you're really great."

"You wanna learn something?"

"I won't be good at it," she chuckled.

"You might surprise yourself. Come on." He took her right hand and positioned her fingers on certain keys. Then he placed his own right hand an octave below. "OK, try this." He played out the first few notes of a song. Then she followed. They went back and forth like that until she could play a simple melody on one hand. Then he got her to play it by herself while his two hands played the other parts, fleshing it out into the whole piano piece. She laughed at the sound of them together, finding it unbelievable that she was actually contributing to music so beautiful.

"You're a good teacher," she said when it was over.

"It helps when you have such a brainy student."

"Who's that song by?"

"Actually it's something I wrote in South Africa."

Her eyes went wide in awe. "I didn't know you could write music."

He shrugged. "Get to know me a little."

"What's it called?"

"It doesn't have a name yet. I always have trouble naming my pieces, coz they're written based on whatever I'm feeling at the time."

"What were you feeling when you wrote that?"

He thought about it. "I can't really put it into words. The music describes it better than I can. It's about the darkness of living in Cape Town. And longing to escape, I guess - to be back in America, with you…"

"Because you belonged with me," she stated, and he nodded. "What else have you written?"

A tiny smile graced his face. "OK, I'll play you something." He took a breath and started producing the most touching sound she'd ever heard. The melody was utterly beautiful, but she felt an underlying pain to it. It started off soft and sweet but transformed into this powerful swell that completely swept her up. She stared at his hands as they moved expertly over the keys, and noticed the emotion in his face. This song obviously meant something to him.

When it was over she let her hand rest over his on top of the keys. "That was beautiful, Peter," she whispered, completely taken aback. "Does that one have a name?"

He smiled softly. "It has your name."

She looked down, letting her hair fall over her face and her fingers caress the wood of the piano. "When did you write it?"

"The day you left," he replied solemnly. "We'd just had the amazing night together and you left. I loved you and hated you at the same time. It was hard because the night before kept coming back to me - I'd seen what the two of us together looked like and it was beautiful. I guess when I wrote this I was trying to wrap up that beauty and loss and longing all at once."

"Well, you did that perfectly," she said, her eyes downcast. "Peter, I'm so sorry I hurt you like that -"

"Shhh, hey, none of that," he said gently, cupping her face. "It's in the past. We're here now." She nodded, kissing him softly. "Are you OK?" he asked. "Did something happen at work?"

"We always talk about work. I just want to enjoy being with you right now, OK?"

"If you're sure."

She smiled wistfully, touching his face. "I don't know…" she said. "I guess this job's making me realise how good I have it. We're so lucky, you and I. We've been through a lot, both of us – but we have a good life here."

"Because I have you."

"We have each other," she responded earnestly. "I love you. So, so much."

"I love you, too."

**Rating becomes M:**

She kissed him fully, the passion of it surprising him for a moment. Soon enough, they're tongues were dancing hotly together, both of them addicted to the other's taste. Her hands fisted his shirt to bring him closer, and his hands came up to gently cup her face. Struck by some flash of boldness, she smiled against his lips and slid her hands beneath his shirt, loving how the muscles there heated and contracted under her touch. He smirked back, running his hands up and down her sides, grazing her breasts over her shirt, making her whimper into his mouth. In one swift, fluid movement, he shut the piano lid over the keys and picked her up off the stool. She gasped in surprise as he sat her down on top of the lid, with him standing between her knees. He quickly went back to feasting on her skin, his lips moving down her neck to her collarbone, taking his time at the exact spot that he knew made her crazy. Her eyes fluttered shut in pleasure and she gripped the piano tightly, using her other hand to bring him closer and wrapping her legs around him. She felt him grow hard against her and she trembled in anticipation, but his body went rigid at the contact.

He pulled back immediately. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be, it's fine," she giggled, cupping his cheek to kiss along his jaw-line.

"But Olivia, if I don't stop now I won't be able to."

"So don't stop."

He pulled away, taking her hand down from his face. Amid the hunger in his eyes, there was concern. "You said the other day you weren't ready. What changed?"

Her palms came to rest over his chest. "Like I said earlier, I just realised how lucky we are to have this life together. In the madness of what we've been dealing with lately, I've taken great solace in being with you. You said you thought we should wait until we felt free and happy together and I do. Aren't you happy?"

"Of course I am, Livia. It's just that this will be the first time we've done it since we broke up back in Quantico. I need to know that you're sure."

"I am. I promise."

Seeing the verity of that statement in her eyes, he nodded and cupped her face tenderly. "I love you," he swore to her. But before she could even respond, he was kissing her with just as much fierce passion as before. He suddenly hoisted her up again, the surprise drawing a sonorous, giddy laugh from her as she clung to his body, loving the feel of all that masculine strength holding her. He started walking them over to his bed, but she shook her head. "Not here," she breathed.

"Why not?"

"I want it to be my bed this time." She wriggled a little in his arms and he put her down. She took his hand. Her touch was warm and smooth, and the tips of her fingers lightly traced a circle on his palm. A cheeky smile on her face, she playfully tugged him to her room, and he was all too eager to follow. At the door she turned back and kissed him again, both sets of hands roaming over each other's bodies as they made their way inside. He was struck by how this time _she_ was initiating. _She_ was inviting him in. _She_ was the one proving her heart to _him_. This time everything wasn't fuelled by desperation or the fear of losing each other. It was fuelled only by love and tenderness and even a sense of fun. Nothing they did felt frenzied or pressured. They had all the time in the world now.

As they kissed, her knees hit the back of the bed and they fell onto it together clumsily, making her laugh. Still kissing, they scrambled back until they were in a comfortable position with him hovering over her body, his weight overshadowing her. They kept exploring and tasting each other, unable to wipe those stupid grins off their faces. She teased him until he begged and he tickled her until she screamed. They felt completely comfortable and free to just take the time to enjoy being together.

Soon enough they were just down to their underwear, the laughter giving way to shaky breaths and soft moans. He unhooked her bra and dragged the straps down her arms, kissing her breasts as he tossed it away. She gasped and arched up, allowing him more access to her, which he was more than happy to take advantage of. "You're so beautiful, Livia," he murmured, sucking her into his mouth. She moaned at the sensation, winding her fingers through his already messy hair. Her heart was hammering in her chest now, and she was certain he could feel it. Not wanting him to have all the fun, she pulled him back up to kiss her lips while her palms explored the heated plane of his chest and stomach, her nails lightly dragging over the furry patch of hair that started at his navel and descended lower. His breath hitched when her fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers and she loved that she was having this effect on him.

She grinned mischievously against his lips and slid her hand into his boxers, stroking and teasing him until he had to break their kiss just to control his breathing. "Livia," he growled in her ear, his voice primal and masculine. He grabbed both her wrists, a teasing look in his eyes. She struggled a little to break free but he held fast, dragging his free hand down her body until his fingers slid into her underwear. He groaned as he explored the wet warmth inside of her, his fingers moving in time with his tongue as they kissed. She whimpered. The pleasure was sudden and astonishing. "Fuck," she whispered, her voice breathy and strained. "Peter, don't you dare stop."

He laughed at her attitude; loving that he was wholly responsible for making her feel that kind of pleasure. He kept his hold on her wrists and kissed down her body until she was breathless, dragging that last piece of fabric keeping her from him down her legs. His eyes clouded over with need as he took her in, her scent washing over him. Deciding he was taking too long, she flipped them both over so he was straddling him. She laughed at his startled face and leaned down to kiss him. It didn't take him long to respond, running his hands down the smooth and flawless plane of her naked back to bring her closer. Her long blond hair tickled his chest. She leaned back and ground against him to tease him, making Peter shudder and groan her name, gripping her hips. As his hips involuntarily bucked up he tipped his head back, and she took the opportunity to kiss and nip down his neck to his chest, addicted to the taste of his skin. "Livi-" he gasped. "Sweetheart, please…"

Finally they somehow fumbled to get his boxers off, leaving them both naked. For a moment they took pause, her hovering over him, staring into his blue-grey eyes. She couldn't resist looking over his body. Seeing her eyes darken, he smirked, loving the realisation that she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. Biting her lip, she leaned down and kissed him softly before reaching between them and settling down on him. Both of them gasped at the sudden sensation. He watched in the moonlight how her mouth fell open slightly and her eyes fluttered shut, convinced that in that moment of vulnerability and pleasure, she was perfect. Cupping her face in one hand, he used the other to sit up a little, meeting her halfway for a slow, languid kiss. His lips moved down to her breasts as he ran a sweaty hand up her thigh to hold onto her hips. She grasped his sturdy shoulders and raised her hips, drawing him out before settling back down, feeling his heavy breaths against her skin. Pushing him back down on the bed, she leaned over him and adjusted herself with each movement, searching for that perfect angle for both of them. The rhythm they fell into wasn't frantic or pressured, just easy and designed for exploring and memorising and loving. His fingers were clutching fistfuls of her hair, dragging down her back, clinging to her desperately. She could hear nothing but his shaky breaths, feel nothing but all this male strength holding her, and see nothing but his eyes adoring her.

Grinning mischievously, he pulled her down for a kiss, sliding his hand between them. She felt his thumb apply delicate pressure just where it should be, causing her to tremble and whimper into his mouth. He took advantage of her moment of weakness, clutching her to him quickly and flipping her onto her back. Once she got over the initial shock, she laughed and cupped his face in both hands, smiling against his lips as they kissed. He brought a warm hand to her knee, wrapping her leg around him as he found a pace of his own, aiming precise thrusts deep inside of her.

Her nails dug into his back, but even the abuse felt good. She moaned as his speed gradually increased and he felt her legs start to shake around him. She was close, so very close, and in all honesty he wasn't sure how much longer he could hang on himself. "Peter," she breathed, scratching his back. "Oh God, Peter, _please_…" The way she breathed his name triggered an explosion of warmth deep in his heart. She was his, and only his. He couldn't believe that. Mostly he couldn't believe that he was hers.

He kissed her hard and ardently, picking up his pace. His palm came to rest against her cheek. "Livvy, sweetheart, look at me," he begged. "I wanna see you." Whimpering at his words, she held his intense gaze as long as she was physically able. Finally something inside her snapped and she tightened around him, opening her mouth to scream. He captured her lips at the last second, swallowing the muffled sound of his name and whatever moans followed it. Unable to control his emotions or his body any longer, he continued to kiss her fiercely, groaning into her mouth as he came.

**Rating back to T:**

They eased their pace into stillness, coming down from the mutual high. He hovered over her for a silent moment, his breathing heavy. Though he was careful not to crush her, he could still feel her body quivering in aftershocks. As soon as they caught their breaths, she chuckled and he grinned. She cupped his face in both hands and they kissed softly and sweetly, completely smitten with each other. He fell to her side and they peppered each other's skin with tiny feather-light touches, kissing their way back to reality. She touched his face tenderly. At times like these she felt like there was a fine line between heaven and here. "I love you," she whispered.

Nothing in the world could beat the way he smiled at her then – it was purely joyous. "I love you, too." Exhausted, he fell back against the pillows as she lay on her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows. She pulled the sheet up to cover her chest as she absentmindedly traced patterns on his.

"Your bed is comfy," he murmured out of nowhere.

"Well, it's our bed now."

He laughed. "Really?"

"Why not? It's bigger than yours."

"Well," he said, hand over his heart in mock pride. "I would be honoured to start sleeping in your bed, Olivia."

"_Our_ bed."

"Right. Our bed," he said, shifting to lie on his side and face her. His eyes followed the slope of her naked back and he leaned over, letting two of his fingers walk slowly up her spine. Brushing some hair away, he planted a gentle kiss on her shoulder, and she chuckled at the feeling of his stubble grazing her. He let his fingertips trace over the freckles on her face. There weren't many times when he actually noticed they were even there. He gave her a cheeky grin.

"What?" she asked.

"You're cute."

She laughed. "And you're shameless."

"No, I mean it. Those freckles of yours are like full-on bunny rabbit adorable. I can't believe I've never really noticed them before."

She just rolled her eyes and smiled, snuggling close to him. After a while, her palms stretched out instinctually to touch his stomach. Making the best possible use of her photographic memory, she mapped every muscle, freckle and scar. Raking her hands lower, she heard his sharp intake of breath and felt him start to harden again. Biting her lip, she looked up at him with a playful gleam in her eye. She kissed and nipped along his jaw-line until she whispered against the outer shell of his ear, "Again."

She only felt him nod quickly. "Again," he breathed, pushing her swiftly back against the blankets.

**Please review after all that P/O action! : )**

**Piano pieces (not actually written by Peter, haha): **

**1. The Equation by Chad Seiter (Season 1 OST): www. youtube. com/ watch? v=KubafN0DG_A**

**2. The Heart Asks Pleasure First by Michael Nyman: www. youtube. com/ watch? v=0dPS-EHl-FE&feature =related**


	14. The Prisoner

**References: Sunday (Over There: Part Two), "whoever that is" (In Which We Meet Mr Jones), Broyles phone call (The Dreamscape), Esterbrook (The Cure), "until you talk" (Bound), "what was written" (Ability), "for very long" (In Which We Meet Mr Jones), "a test" (Entrada)**

**The Wire references: hands and faces (Sergei), "I'm in" (Sydnor) **

**Song: Why Don't You and I by Santana and Nickelback**__

Since the moment I spotted you  
Like walking 'round with little wings on my shoes  
My stomach's filled with the butterflies  
And it's alright  
Bouncing round from cloud to cloud  
I got the feelin' like I'm never gonna come down  
If I said I didn't like it then you know I'd lied  


"What time is it?" Olivia asked sleepily as soft music played in the background.

"Who cares?" Peter replied. "It's Sunday. The whole point is to relax and not care about things like time."

She nodded, closing her eyes and leaning back to rest against his chest. "Well, it is the first day off they've given me since I went back. Should probably make the most of it," she said, twisting her head back to kiss him softly. They were in her bath – _their _bath – but by this point the water had gone lukewarm. She ran her hands down his arms as they rested on the side of the tub. Taking this as a cue, he wrapped one of those arms around her naked body while he let the fingers of his other hand come up to draw lazy patterns on her skin.

_Every time I try to talk to you  
I get tongue-tied  
Turns out, everything I say to you  
Comes out wrong and never comes out right  
_

She giggled at the sensation. "This is nice," she murmured.

She felt him nod, still caressing her skin soothingly. His fingertips trailed up and down her arms, over her stomach, down her legs. He kissed her hair. "You're beautiful, Livia."

She gave him a weak smile and kissed him softly. "Thanks."

"But…?"

She shrugged and curled a little closer to him, letting her hair fall over her face. "I'm sorry, it's just hard getting used to hearing those words the way you say them. Most guys just say it to scare me or because they think it's what I want to hear."

"You know I mean it though, right? Anyone can see you're beautiful. But Livia, I'm the guy who's _in love_ with you. I notice beauty in you everybody else misses. I'm hard-wired to think that every inch of you is stunning. And I do," he said earnestly, touching her face tenderly.

_So I'll say why don't you and I get together _

_an' take on the world, be together forever  
Heads we will and tails we'll try again  
So I say why don't you and I hold each other, _

_fly to the moon and straight on to heaven  
Cause without you they're never gonna let me in  
_

She sighed. "I know I can be a little overwhelmed by you sometimes, and I'm sorry I have trust issues. I'm not used to this, and I know I'm not the kind of girl you're used to. Peter, I'm not like you – I haven't had lots of partners before. You have to understand that guys didn't exactly treat me well growing up," she explained, her eyes downcast. "You already know what my stepfather was like. And I know Harris was an extreme case, but he wasn't the first person who's ever tried to push me when I didn't want to, even at school. I learned really young not to trust men, and it took me a while to allow myself to open up to someone in a relationship. The only person I've slept with before you was Lucas back in college, and we were together for a good couple of years before I left for Quantico. I love you, and I know I'm asking a lot, but you're gonna need to bear with me here. I'm still learning how to let someone love me – you're slowly teaching me that. It's never felt like this – not with Lucas or John or anybody. I just – I'm still trying to figure out how to do this, and -"

"Hey," he said, cupping her face. "Has anyone ever told you that you think too much?" She smiled bashfully and he continued. "Livia, I'm sorry that you've had some bad experiences in the past, but none of that changes how I feel for you. I love you for who you are – who those experiences have made you. And despite my faults you love me back. That in itself completely blows my mind. As long as that's true then we can overcome anything else. OK?"

She nodded. He kissed her cheek. "I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, Olivia. You're staggeringly beautiful to the rest of the world, but to me? To me you're just about perfect. Didn't you know that?"

There was a long pause. She was completely lost for words, still staring at the spot over her stomach where their fingers were intertwined.

He cupped her face and forced her to look at him. "Sweetheart," he said, his voice weighted with hurt and concern. "You didn't _know_?"

She smiled faintly, touched by his honesty and heart, and twisted so she was facing him, sitting in his lap half under water. She cupped his face gently in both hands. "I know," she whispered. "You show me every day."

"I love you," he swore to her.

"I love you, too."

He grinned and she kissed him delicately. But as always with them, things didn't stay delicate for very long – especially when they were both naked in their bathtub. He kissed her one last time, long and hard, before his lips moved down her neck and even lower, making her gasp. The water splashed and rippled around them as their hands roamed over each other's bodies. Their breaths started to come heavy, soft moans echoing slightly off the tiled walls. But just as her hands began to rake down his stomach, her cell phone rang.

She pulled back, startled by the sound. "I hate whoever that is," Peter groaned, letting himself slip fully underwater. She chuckled at his acerbic dramatics and answered the phone. "Dunham." 

"I need you to work today," came Broyles' authoritative voice.

"It's Sunday. Day off."

"Afraid not," Broyles said as Peter resurfaced. He reached out to her innocently but she held up a hand to ask him to wait a minute.

"Okay," she said to Broyles. "I'm going to tell you something and you're going to think I'm joking, but I'm not. I quit - only just for today and then I'll be happy to help out after the weekend."

Broyles was unfazed by her empty threat. "Meet Agent Lee and I on the helipad in an hour." That was it. She snapped her phone shut and ran a hand through her hair. She looked to Peter, her eyes guilty and disappointed.

"I'm so sorry -" she started.

"Don't be. What's going on?"

"I'm not sure, but I'll probably be back tonight."

"OK. I'll be here."

"Thank you," she said, kissing him quickly and hopping out of the bath to get dressed. The sight tortured Peter, but he promised to himself that he would make up for lost time when she got home.

When Olivia finally got to the helipad at the top of the Federal Building, Broyles and Lincoln would only tell her that they were going to New York Federal Prison. Lincoln wouldn't meet her eyes, and she sensed he knew more than he was telling her. When they got there, Broyles led them both down the dimly lit corridors to a gallery where they could see through one-way glass into an interrogation room. On the other side a man in a chair was being beaten and interrogated.

"This is David Esterbrook," Broyles explained. "American born, living in between Europe and the US. He's one of the traffickers we've managed to capture recently. He has a criminal record in gang crimes but also seems to have a science background. It appears he was recruited by ZFT in prison as a young man. Like the other members we've interrogated, he refuses to cooperate in any way."

"I know the Pentagon is arrogant about torturing terrorists since 9/11, but this is ridiculous," Olivia muttered, hinting at the interrogators. "Surely there's got to be a better way of getting answers out of him."

"We think you may be able to get him to talk."

"Why? Because I'm female?"

"We know it's a bit clichéd, but it works," Lincoln said. "The guy hasn't seen a real woman the whole time he's been in prison and he has a history of sex crimes. We think if you go and interrogate him alone, he might slip up. Are you up for it?"

"Of course," she said. "But how should I approach this? I've never interrogated anyone by myself before."

"Don't reveal any information about yourself, not even your name," Broyles instructed. "If he threatens you, respond to it and then get back on topic. The key is to maintain control of the conversation while making him believe he has some power over you. Then you can turn the tables on him."

Olivia scanned through the man's file and gave her superiors a nod, heading inside as the other interrogators were called out. Lincoln looked to Broyles, his arms crossed. "I don't approve of this little experiment," he said through gritted teeth. "I'll grant you, she's talented and driven. But Broyles, she's just a junior agent, only 23 years old. She's a sexual assault survivor. I can't believe you're even considering her for UC work."

"I don't like it any more than you do," Broyles admitted. "But there's a lot of pressure coming down on us, you know that. Let's just see how she handles this. Often when guys like him get turned on, they talk. If he responds to her, we know she'd be perfect to send in." They fell into a tense silence and watched Olivia from their side of the glass.

Meanwhile, Olivia sat down at a desk opposite the prisoner. He was panting in pain from his beating, his head hung. But once he saw her, he gave her a crooked smile. "Well hello," he slurred. "Nice to see such a pretty face. What did I do to deserve this?"

"I'm here to discuss the crimes for which you are imprisoned here, Mr Esterbrook," she said coolly, disdain for this man already boiling inside her. "You've been found working in a human trafficking ring within the bioterrorist group ZFT. What exactly was your job within ZFT?" 

He leaned forward a little, looked her over. "How old are you? 24?"

Remembering what Broyles said about giving him power, she looked away before answering. "I'm not here to talk about me, Mr Esterbrook."

"Call me David. And I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, love," he teased. "I only ask because – you know, I don't know anything about that trafficking shit – but I'm sure guys would pay a fair bit to fuck a piece of ass like you -"

"That's enough," she spat.

"What about a name, honey? Will you give me that at least? A man gets lonely in here, you know. How about you tell me something about yourself, and maybe I tell you something you want to hear - quid pro quo. What do you say?"

"I'm not playing this game with you," she snapped, opening his file. "I've gone over your record – gang affiliations, sexual assaults... As a young man you were convicted with conspiracy in regard to a series of gang rapes and murders in which the victims had they're fingers and faces removed to avoid identification."

"Well, I obviously had a lot of growing up to do. Yeah, I fucked those girls when I was a kid. They were real fucking nice, too. But I'm a different man, now. More…sophisticated, you could say."

"As a man or as a criminal?"

He only smirked, leering at her. It made her honestly shiver. She knew that look. _This is a man_, she thought, _who'd fuck me as soon as slit my throat_. "You're fucking beautiful, you know that?" he taunted. "Come on, honey. Give me a little something to think about while I'm in here and I might just tell you what I know. I only wanna smell your hair or something. Just lean over, it'll be quick. I don't bite, I promise."

She swallowed and averted her eyes, trying to show limited amounts of vulnerability. His mouth twitched into a smile as he thought he was getting to her. "How exactly did you end up with ZFT?" she continued.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"We both know you do." She pulled some case photos from the file. "These girls were found in a shipping container after they'd been trafficked, prostituted, experimented on and killed by your organisation. Weeks earlier, this girl was found in a warehouse with evidence of experimentation and half her organs missing. And this girl -"

"Did she have hands? Did she have a face? Yes? Then it wasn't me," he taunted coldly, leaning as close to Olivia as he could with his chains on. "As much as I love having you here, honey, you're wasting my time and yours. I don't know shit about this. So unless you wanna crawl under this table and make my day, get the fuck out of here, princess."

That almost made her snap. She leaned forward too, glaring at him. "We know about Conrad," she said coldly.

That made him nervous. "Now where did you here a name like that?"

"One of the other prisoners broke," she lied with her best poker face on.

The notion seemed to fill him with genuine rage. "Bullshit," he growled. "ZFT's soldiers are loyal to the end."

"Apparently not," she taunted.

"Who was it? TELL ME!"

"You're not getting a damn thing until you talk."

He tensed, jaw tight and fists clenched. "It doesn't matter anyway. It doesn't matter that we're in here. It won't even matter if you catch Conrad, which you won't. He's just a part of the army."

"What army?"

"You haven't been doing this for very long, have you? You people don't know anything! Don't you understand who we're up against? Who the two sides are? Tell me you at least know that. The war is coming, and we are the only hope."

"Who's we?"

He stopped himself before he answered, realising he'd already said too much. "You're getting nothing more from me, princess. Not another word," he said snidely. "What was written will come to pass. And nothing you do can stop that. Nothing."

"Then we're done here," she replied coldly, snapping the file shut and heading out. Leaning against the door, she ran a hand over her face. That had been more stressful than she'd expected.

She found Lincoln and Broyles standing tensely together, arguing in hushed tones. They stopped as she approached. Broyles looked disappointed and Lincoln looked furious enough to breathe smoke. She suddenly thought that she must have screwed up in there, but Lincoln read her mind. "Don't worry, Liv. You did well," he said, throwing a glare to Broyles. "We got exactly what we needed."

"Some of the language he used sounded rehearsed to me," she mentioned. "All that stuff about 'the war' and 'the army' – maybe he's referring to a ZFT code, or a prophetic text of some kind?"

"You may be right," Broyles said. "We'll get some agents on that. In the meantime, there's something we need to discuss with you."

She shifted a little, nervous. "OK."

"Before we get into this I want you to know that this wasn't my choice," Lincoln said.

"What is it?" she asked. But she already knew. She looked warily between them. "I passed a test, didn't I?"

Broyles nodded solemnly. "As you know, our male UCs have been able to get us some information, but it's only half the picture. We're running out of options, and up the chain of command they're pushing us to send female agents undercover. This new angle may just be enough to find Conrad or learn what the attack even is. I hate to say it, Dunham, but there aren't many women in Fringe Division, and you would be a logical choice to send. You're capable, hard-working, attractive and young. But I'm reluctant to send you because you're so inexperienced and also because of what happened with Harris last year. I know it's a terrible decision for you to make, but the wolves are at the door. You can say no, Dunham, but frankly this may be our only shot at these people."

"I know," Olivia said, rubbing her temples. "Somebody has to do it. You're right. I'm the logical choice. I'm the youngest woman in Fringe Division and I don't mean to sound proud but I'm damn good at my job, sir. I'm the agent you've raised me to be. I don't want to do this, and it scares me to death, but I'm the best person for it and we all know it."

Lincoln's fists clenched at the very idea but Broyles only nodded. "I wish I could give you some time to consider this, but frankly we don't have it."

"It's fine," she said quickly, glaring back at Esterbrook through the glass. "There are too many bastards like him out there, and if we have a chance to stop the next worst thing since 9/11, then we have to do everything possible. Even this."

"This is fucked up," muttered Lincoln. "I won't let you do this."

"It's not your choice to make, Lincoln. I'm in. If it makes the fucking case, I'm in all the way."

"We can do our best to keep you safe," Broyles said. "You'll probably be trafficked across states, so it'll be a few weeks before any physical harm comes to you. We'll be keeping track of your location at all times and try to organise the male UCs to guide you inside. If anything should go majorly wrong we'll have immediate plans in place to get you out."

"But the longer I stay in there the closer we come to finding Conrad."

"Yes," he admitted. "You need to get some rest. We start your training in the morning. Oh, and Dunham, tell no one about this. Not yet."

She nodded, shocked at herself for what she'd just agreed to. On the way back, Lincoln would barely look at her. "I'm sorry," she said to him, but he was still angry.

When she finally got back home it was late. Peter was already asleep. She sat on the edge of their bed and fought tears as she watched him. She wasn't allowed to tell him yet, but she couldn't imagine what she would say even if she was. The idea of her being held by sex traffickers for a month or two would terrify him. It was already terrifying her.

She got changed and settled into bed with him, getting as close as she could. He woke up and nuzzled his nose with hers. "Welcome home," he whispered, reaching out to her. "Livia, you're shaking."

"It was cold outside," she lied.

"Are you OK?"

She looked up at him, touching his face. "Yeah. I just love you so much."

"I love you, too."

"Show me," she whispered. "Please. I really need you right now."

"Livia, are you sure you're OK?"

"Yeah. This job's just really stressing me out, that's all."

"What's wrong? You can tell me." She shook her head and let him stroke her hair. She hated being vulnerable like this, but all she wanted was for him to hold her and tell her it'd be OK. She looked up at him, tears in her eyes.

"Can you just tell me you love me again?" she whispered. "I really need to hear it."

He touched her face. "You know I do, my love."

"Then please," she begged softly in the dark. "Show me how much. Peter, I need you."

He didn't know what was going on, but he knew he could provide some comfort to her in this way. Bearing his heart to her, he peppered her face with kisses until he captured her lips in a slow but fiercely passionate kiss. She pulled him close as she rolled back to lie against the blankets, him hovering over her. As his body worshipped hers, he made it his mission to love her and salve her heart, emotionally and physically. "I love you," he whispered to her a thousand times over as they made love. "I don't care what happened today. I love you. And I'm not letting you go."

That made her cry. It was too early for him to make that promise. But in that moment, it was all she needed to hear.

**Please review this chapter! I love to hear what you think : )**


	15. Almost Honest

**References: the necklace (Over There: Part 1), shoulder touch (Marionette), insane (Pilot), Peter's mantra (Dream Logic)**

**Song: Stacy's Mom by Fountains of Wayne**

"Liv, do you want another coffee?" Rachael asked.

"No thanks, Rach. I need to go to work soon," Olivia replied as she joined her sister in her and Greg's kitchen to wash up after their breakfast.

Rachael sighed. "If only I could have one."

"Do you miss it? Coffee?"

Rachael laughed, rubbing her swollen belly. "Like you wouldn't believe. At least I wasn't a huge coffee addict like you. When you get pregnant you're gonna be practically suicidal."

"Yeah, sure. Like that's gonna happen."

"Don't speak too soon, Liv. You won't always be 23. One day you'll make a great mother, I can tell."

She laughed. "You're sweet, but why don't you focus on your own pregnancy for now."

"Fair enough," Rachael said. "Are you OK, Liv? You look kind of tired."

"Yeah, work's been really stressful. I'm sorry I haven't been able to see you much lately." She sighed, stepping closer to her sister. "Speaking of which, I need to let you know that I'm going away for work in a couple of days."

"Where?"

"Trenton," she lied.

"New Jersey?"

"I won't be able to call you or anything while I'm away – it's complicated. I can't really say much about it. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone, but it should only be a couple of months at the most."

"But you'll be back for when Ella's born, right?"

"I hope so, Rach. But if I'm not, I want you to have this," she said, holding out the cross necklace their mother had given her when she graduated from the Academy.

Rachael looked shocked. "But Liv – that's Mum's. She gave it to you."

"And now I'm giving it to Ella." She took Rachael's hand and closed it firmly around the necklace. "I want her to have it. I'm not sure I'll make it back in time for when she's born so hang on to for me, OK?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Rach. I'm sure."

"Liv, should I be worried about this trip? I mean, is it dangerous or something?"

"No, Rach. There's nothing to worry about. You just relax and take care of yourself and the baby."

Rachael sighed. "OK. I'll keep the necklace for Ella."

"Thank you," Olivia replied, pulling her sister into a tight hug – tighter than usual.

"Liv, are you OK?"

"Yeah," she said, pulling back. "We should do this more often. It's nice."

Rachael giggled. "Sure."

Olivia checked her watch. "I should probably go to work. But I'll make sure I say goodbye before I leave Boston, OK?"

"You better."

* * *

The last couple of days at work had been intense to say the least. Broyles and the others had been giving her last minute lessons in the protocols of undercover work and how illegal brothels function. She had to create a believable character, buy clothes that made her look younger, and learn how to market herself to traffickers. They figured if she told her captors she was a virgin it'd buy her some time before anyone tried to harm her – especially if they had to traffic her across states first. In the end a male UC was able to set up a job interview for her at a business that was notorious for misleading girls into the ring - that was her way in. She was also given crash courses in self-defence. Just in case.

Lincoln picked her up from the Federal Building to drive her over to Massive Dynamic, who was helping the FBI on the case. "Liv," he started after a long silence in the car. "I want to apologise for how I've been acting the last couple of days. I'm not happy with you doing this, but I'm your partner and I should be more supportive. I'm really sorry."

"It's OK, Lincoln. Don't worry about it."

"No, I haven't been fair to you. I know I can't change your mind about this, but that's no reason for me to be frustrated with you. You're being incredibly brave here, and I can imagine you're more scared than you let on. So I'm gonna do my best to support you. I figure the best way for me to keep you safe is to work hard on the case so we can bring you home as soon as we can."

"Thank you, Lincoln."

They finally reached the Massive Dynamic building. Olivia had only been there a couple of times before, but the company still astounded her. Lincoln led her up to a lab on the 42nd floor, where they were met by a familiar face.

"Welcome to Massive Dynamic, Agent Dunham," said Nina Sharp. "We've met once before, during your training, but I'm not sure if you remember me."

"Meeting the assistant director of a multinational conglomerate isn't exactly something you forget, Ms Sharp," she replied, shaking her hand.

"As you know Massive Dynamic is on board to assist the FBI during your undercover work. Our scientists have developed something for specifically for you," she said, calling in a couple of scientists in white lab coats. One of them handed Nina a small metallic object.

"Is that a microchip?" Olivia asked, looking it over.

"Of sorts," she replied. "This device will help us track your location, much like a GPS. However it will also act like a wiretap, recording and relaying everything you say or hear to the FBI and our labs here at Massive Dynamic. That way if you should overhear any useful information we will be able to work with it almost immediately."

"So how do I keep it with me - in my clothes or jewellery or something?"

"We won't get far like that," Lincoln explained. "Remember you'll be in a sex trafficking ring – they'll probably give you new clothes to wear to better market you. And if they search you, it'd be too easy to find. It's better if we just implant it."

"It shouldn't be too painful," Nina said. "Shall we get started?"

Olivia got a little nervous then, but she nodded. She was led by one of the scientists to something resembling a hospital bed and was told to lie down on her side. She pulled her hair aside and they used a black marker to draw an x along her hairline behind her right ear. Lincoln knelt in front of her and gave her a reassuring smile.

The doctor brought out a needle and she gulped. "Hey," Lincoln said. "Don't look at him, look at me."

She did, breathing deeply. "This is just an anaesthetic," the doctor explained.

The pain was sudden. Olivia sucked in a breath and clenched her eyes shut, gripping the side of the bed. "You hanging in there, Liv?" Lincoln asked.

"Yeah," she muttered.

After a while it started to take effect, and the doctor sliced along her hairline to insert the chip, and then closed up the small wound. "All done," he said, and Olivia sat up, relieved.

She touched over the bandage. "I can't even feel it."

"That's the idea," the doctor said, handing her a small packet of tablets. "Take one of these with each meal for today and tomorrow to avoid infection and you'll be fine."

"We should try activating the chip to check that it works," said Lincoln. They turned it on via the computers and recorded a conversation between her and Lincoln, finding that everything was functional.

They deactivated it when they were done, which gave Olivia some relief. She felt weird about people hearing everything she was saying. "We'll reactivate it on the morning you get sent in," said Nina. "In the meantime, we'll have you set up a password to the program so only you can activate it." After creating the password, Olivia felt somewhat better about her privacy.

As they were about to leave, Nina shook her hand once again. "I appreciate your determination in your work, but I hope you know what you're getting into, Agent Dunham. I would say this to my own daughter: be careful and good luck."

"Thank you," Olivia said as they left.

* * *

Back at the Federal Building, Olivia and Lincoln got back to work, but it wasn't long before a distressed Charlie came charging over to their desks. "You got something to tell me, Livvy?"

"What?"

"Don't play with me. Broyles just briefed my unit saying their sending you undercover this week."

"Charlie…"

"Is it true?" he pressed. But she couldn't answer. "Livvy! Is it true or not?"

She nodded, hanging her head. She couldn't stand to see him so sad.

"How could you not tell me about this?"

"I'm so sorry, Charlie. I was told I wasn't allowed to tell people yet. You shouldn't have found out like that."

He let out a weighty sigh, running a hand over his head. "You free for lunch today?"

"Yeah."

"I want to talk to you about this. And Livvy - no secrets this time."

She nodded and he walked off. She hated this feeling. Everyone who knew was either really worried or really angry. And she hadn't even told Peter yet.

When lunch finally came, she met Charlie and they got lunch at the park like always, finding a bench under a tree to sit on. She wasn't really sure what to say to him – she still felt guilty that she wasn't able to tell him herself.

His first question was, "Are you scared?"

"I'm terrified," she said bluntly, looking away.

"Does Peter know?"

"Not yet. I'm telling him tonight. Broyles just gave me permission."

"Livvy…He adores you. This'll kill him."

"I know," she said, fighting tears. "Everything's been going so well. He's really been getting his life back on track these last few months. He's only 25, Charlie - he shouldn't have to worry about things like his girlfriend being abducted by sex traffickers. We won't be able to speak or touch or see each other the whole time I'm in there. I hurt him so much in our last relationship – he's going to go crazy when I tell him about this."

"This is different. You're not leaving him – you're just doing your job."

"Charlie, how do I tell him? I mean, what the hell should I say?"

"Just be honest and let him know how you feel about this. If he knows that you're scared too then he might not see this as something you're doing _to_ him. But it's not going to be easy."

"Charlie," she said, trying not to cry. "Charlie, I'm scared. I don't want to go."

"You can say no, Livvy."

"I can't. There's too much that depends on it. I just…I know exactly what could happen to me in there."

"Hey," he said softly, putting his arm around her. "We're gonna look after you. The UCs inside will help you and back here we'll be tracking everything that happens while we work the case. Plus you're a smart girl – just trust your gut and don't forget your training. You're gonna be fine, Livvy. We're gonna bring you home."

She wished it was that simple.

* * *

Olivia walked into the lab looking for Peter but only found Walter dancing around with Peter's headphones on.

"Stacy's mom has got it goin' on," he sang as he danced. "She's all I want, and I've waited so long. Stacy, can't you see? You're just not the girl for me. I know it might be wrong, but I'm in love with Stacy's -"

"Walter!"

He stopped and took off the headphones. "Excuse me, dear," he said warmly. "I borrowed Peter's iPod in an attempt to educate myself on what you hip young twenty-somethings are listening to these days."

"I see."

"Although I must say I do enjoy listening to this song. It reminds me of a rather awkward time in my adolescence when I developed an intense infatuation with my chemistry teacher -"

"Walter, I really don't need to know. Is Peter here?"

"Oh, no, dear, he went to buy some things for my experiments. But he said if you came by to let you know he'd be home late tonight because he's taking me out for ice cream. Isn't that marvellous?"

"Thanks, Walter. I'll see you later."

Honestly, she was relieved. She was glad Peter would get another hour to be oblivious and happy before she told him. But that extra hour was torture for her. She spent the whole time pacing in their apartment, trying to keep herself from falling to pieces. There were a million different scenarios running through her head. What if he hated her? What if he left? She couldn't figure out how to tell him in a way that would hurt him less. There was no perfect way. Whatever she said, it would kill them both.

Peter eventually walked through the door to find her sitting in a chair, head in her hands. The smile fell from his face. "Livia?" No answer. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she only recoiled. "You OK?"

She would barely move, just shaking her head. He pulled up a chair and sat beside her. "What is it?" Still nothing. "Olivia, I know you've been really upset the last couple of days. I've tried to be respectful but I think it's about time you told me what was going on."

He was right. She was going to have to tell him anyway, and she was already running out of time. Finally she looked up at him and he saw tears in her eyes. "I have to go away," she started.

"What do you mean? For work?"

She nodded.

"That's OK, Livia, we'll manage. We'll call each other all the time, and I'll just see you when you get back -"

"No, Peter," she interrupted. "You don't get it. I only have a couple more days here. I don't even know when I'll get back and I won't be able to talk to you."

"Why not?"

She couldn't get the words out. Her hands were shaking. "Peter, I'm sorry…"

"Livia, just tell me," he said softly. "Whatever it is…I just need to know."

"They're sending me undercover. They're placing me as a victim within the trafficking ring, to learn more about ZFT."

"_What?_ You can't be serious."

"They say they've exhausted all other options. It's our last chance to gain some traction on Conrad -"

"By sending you in as a trafficking victim? That's insane! You have to tell them you won't do it."

"Peter, you don't understand," she said. "I already told them I'd go. I'm so sorry."

That stopped him. He gritted his teeth. "You better be lying to me," he growled.

She just shook her head, tears hanging in her eyes.

Furious, he stood up and violently grabbed the phone from the kitchen counter. He stormed back over and held it out to her. "Call Broyles," he commanded. "_Now_. You call him and you tell him you changed your mind."

"Peter, I can't."

"Yes you can. Just tell him no."

"I can't!"

"Fuck, Olivia! SAY NO!"

"I won't do it! I'm going!"

"NO!" he shouted. "No, Olivia, not again! You don't get to do this to me again, you bitch. I'm such an idiot. I can't believe I fell in love with you only to have you leave me _twice_."

"I'm not leaving you! I'll come back, Peter, I promise. I love you – that doesn't change because of this. The last thing I want is to go undercover, but somebody has to."

"So why does it have to be you?"

"According to Broyles I'm the best person for it."

"No, you are _23 years old_! This is insane! He is insane, and you're insane for following him!"

"Do you think I want to do this?" she yelled back, barely holding back tears. "We both know what ZFT does to girls like me. We've been investigating the rapes, the experimentation, the killings, all of it. Peter, I am _terrified_ of what could happen to me in there. Don't you get it? I don't want to go! I want to stay with you and my friends and my family, in my home, where I feel safe. But I have to do this if we're going to have any shot at stopping the attack. All I need is to know that you're still going to be here for me when I get back."

"There has to be another way."

"We've tried everything else, Peter. I have to go."

"How have I not heard about this until now? How the hell could you not tell me? I asked you a thousand times what was going on -"

"It's a covert operation - I was ordered not to tell anyone," she tried to explain. "Broyles only gave me permission to tell you this afternoon."

"I can't believe you made this decision without at least asking me."

"Oh I'm sorry, Peter, I thought I was allowed to make my own decisions."

"Not on something like this! I know you like to play the hero, Olivia, but this is bullshit! You could easily get raped in there, or experimented on, or worse."

"Don't you think I know that? I'm sorry, but a chance to stop a national terrorist attack is worth the risk."

"So you're really going in there? You're actually _choosing_ to be surrounded by thugs and rapists?" He scoffed bitterly, shaking his head. "Unbelievable…"

"What?"

"Harris was right about you," he spat snidely. "You really do ask for it."

Everything stopped.

She just stared at him, angry tears in her eyes. She couldn't possibly have heard him right.

"Fuck…" he whispered, running a hand over his face. "Olivia, it just slipped out. I was angry. I didn't mean it."

Olivia knew if she stood there one more second she was going to do it. She was going to kill him. She roughly pushed past him to get to her room.

"Olivia, wait!"

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned back, glaring at him. "If you're not going to be here for me when I come home then you should leave now," she snapped coldly. "You obviously don't give a shit about me and I'm not all that sure I want you here anymore. Just walk away. Find someplace new. We both know you're good at that," she spat before slamming the door in his face.

Leaning back against the door, she slid down the cold wood and crumpled into a ball on the floor, starting to cry. "Olivia," she heard him call from the other side. The door shook against her back as he banged his fist against it. "Olivia, let me in. I'm sorry, OK?"

"Go away," she sobbed. Her whole body was shaking as she cried.

"Please, Olivia. I really regret saying all of that. I wanna work this out. Come on, sweetheart, open up -"

"Don't call me that," she cried, choking on her tears. "I hate you. Just go away."

Giving up, he rested his forehead against the door, his eyes watering. He wondered if she meant it when she said she hated him – he sure as hell didn't mean what he'd said. Walking back down the hall, he punched a wall in frustration, which basically did nothing but put him in even more pain. He wandered back into his old room and found that nothing there gave him comfort, not even his piano. All he could think about was their fight, and what kinds of hell Olivia would go through without him when she was undercover.

Eventually he gave up and collapsed onto his bed. "Please don't dream tonight," he whispered to himself in the darkness. It was one of the few times he'd said it since he was 19. "Please don't dream tonight. Please don't dream tonight." He kept saying it over and over until he finally fell asleep.

The nightmares came anyway.

**Please review this chapter! It was a painful one to write, so a review would really make me happy!**


	16. The Ice is Getting Thinner

**References: fireflies (Firefly), Han (Safe), believing in God (Unearthed), **

When Peter woke up the morning after his fight with Olivia, she wasn't there. There wasn't a note. He figured she'd just left early for work. He knew his anger got out of control last night and he felt like a dickhead. He called the lab to say he'd be in late and drove straight to the Federal Building. Sure enough, there was Olivia, working hard as usual. But before he could even approach her desk, Charlie saw him and stopped him. "Hey, Peter, I'm not sure you should be here -"

"I need to speak to Olivia."

He sighed. "She doesn't want to talk to you. I'm sorry, man."

"Look, we had a fight last night about this undercover work and I said some really shitty things. I need her to know I didn't mean them. I know you're being a good friend to her, but please, you need to let me through."

Charlie looked back to Olivia before finally nodding. "Good luck, man. I know you mean well," he said, walking away.

Peter took his opportunity to quickly walk over to Olivia's desk. "Livia," he said. "I need to talk to you."

"What do you want?" Her voice was harsh, but there was a soft brokenness in it.

"I want to apologise again for last night. Livia, I'm such an idiot, I didn't even mean those things I -"

"Peter, this is where I work," she interrupted him, still avoiding his eyes. "I really don't have time for this."

"Fine," he said softly, knowing it was better to admit a small defeat than hurl himself towards a greater one.

"So are you moving out?" she asked bluntly.

"Well actually, I was hoping we could work this out."

"If you're not going then I'll stay at Rachael's tonight. I'm leaving in a couple of days anyway."

"Olivia, stop it. Will you please just give me a chance to apologise? Come on, just come home tonight and we can talk. If you really don't want me to stay after that then I'm gone, OK? But Olivia, we really need to work this out. We only have a couple more days together. I want us to make them really count."

She let her hair fall over her face in a small reveal of vulnerability and finally nodded. "I'll come home."

"Thank you," he said. He wanted to kiss her, but she wasn't ready for it. That being said, he didn't want to walk away from this without some sign of affection. He let his hand gently brush hers. It was a gesture so subtle they barely felt it, and yet they felt it everywhere. That was enough.

* * *

She found him that night sitting at the piano, but the room was dead silent. She looked to him, confused. "I can't play," he mumbled, closing the lid. "I tried, but it just didn't come." He moved down the stool and motioned for sit with him.

Hesitantly, she did. Neither of them spoke for a moment. Peter hung his head. "Livia, I'm so sorry. I'm so ashamed of how I treated you last night. I didn't mean what I said - especially what I said about Harris. I don't even know what made me say it. I know it's no excuse, but I was just angry, I guess. And I was scared. I understand if you hate me like you said."

She just nodded. "I didn't mean it when I said I hated you. I don't know why I said it. It isn't even true." She bit her lip and scoffed bitterly. "Quite the opposite, actually. That's why this hurts so much."

"Olivia, I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you like this."

"Part of me doesn't want to forgive you," she confessed. "But I know I should. We both say stupid shit when we fight, and like you said, we're on borrowed time. I think we should try and put last night behind us – forget it ever happened."

He sighed and reached up to cup her face. "I love you," he said softly. "But I'm really worried about you doing this."

She nodded and dropped her eyes, fighting tears. "Peter, I am so, so scared."

"Then why are you going?"

"I have a chance to free these girls and stop a national terrorist attack. And I'm the only one who can. Peter, I can't ignore that."

"Yeah," he muttered. "I know. I'm scared too. Pretty fucking terrified, actually."

"What scares you the most?"

"The idea of you not coming home. Or that you'll come back, but what happened to you in there was so bad you'll never be the same."

She sighed. "I wish there was another way. I wish that I could stay with you. Peter, I just need to know…Are you going to be here for me when I come back?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's just that – if you're going to move on while I'm away then that's your decision, but I just need to know. I can't go undercover thinking we're still together and then come home to find that you don't want to be with me anymore. I couldn't take it."

"Woah, where's all this coming from? Of course I'm going to stay with you. When we got back together I promised myself I wouldn't let you go this time. Olivia, I love you and I will be thinking of you every second of the day while you're gone. If you'll let me I'll visit the Federal Building where I can listen to the wiretap so I can know that you're OK. Would you be comfortable with that?"

She baulked a little. "Peter, I don't know that that's such a good idea. Anything could happen to me in there. If I was hurt and you were listening – it'd kill you."

"Hey," he said, "Don't worry about me. I just want to make sure you'll be OK. I had a talk to Charlie and he's calmed me down a fair bit about all this. I mean, I'm definitely still not happy with it, but he told me all the measures the FBI's taking to keep you as safe as possible in there. But Olivia, it'd still give me a lot of comfort if I could hear your voice while you were gone."

She thought about it. "OK. I mean, I'm worried about what you might hear, but I think if I ever get a moment alone I may get the chance to send you a message. I know you won't be able to talk back, but it's something."

"You can be sure that I'll be listening. I don't care if it's at 3am. There'll be people monitoring that thing 24/7 so if I'm not there I'll have them call me and let me know you're talking."

She sighed. "So what happens now?"

"What do you mean?"

"We only have like another day and a half together. I mean, do we act like everything's normal? Do we…I don't know."

"I don't know either. I'm just glad that we're here together. We won't always be." He went silent then, pulling her into an almost painfully tight hug. They clung to each other desperately, neither wanting to let go. Both of them were trembling with the pressure of their silent turmoil. "Come back to me," Peter finally choked. "Please, Livia. You have to come back."

"I will. I promise," she vowed, praying that she'd didn't just lie to him.

* * *

The next morning, Olivia went back to the Federal Building to do some work. Her interview with Esterbrook had led the FBI to ZFT's manifesto, and now there were teams of agents pouring through it. But it wasn't long before Broyles saw her working and pulled her into his office. "Dunham, what are you doing here? I told you to take the day off."

"Sir, if I go home I'll just get stressed out about the mission. Frankly I'd rather be here where I can help."

"You're helping enough," he said. "Dunham, it's your last day before you leave. Take the time off. It's the least you deserve. I'm not taking no for an answer."

She sighed. "Sir, I'm really sorry to ask you this, but is there any chance Peter could have the rest of the day off too? I'd really appreciate it if I could spend some time with him before I left tomorrow."

He smiled knowingly. She knew he was aware of her relationship with Peter. Lincoln was right – he really couldn't keep a secret. "Of course, Dunham," he said. "Anything you need."

"Thank you, sir. I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

Peter and Olivia spent the bulk of their last day together just wandering around. They didn't go to any fancy restaurants or do anything special. They just wanted to be together. He never let go of her hand as they wandered through the streets and down to their favourite spot in the park. The swings were taken by all the little kids running around, so they found a quiet spot in the sun to lie back on the grass. They were quiet for a long time, just holding each other. None of them really knew what to say anymore.

Finally Olivia spoke up. "I wonder if this is what my Dad felt like before he went to war."

"How do you feel?"

"It's hard to describe," she said softly. "Part of me doesn't feel anything. The rest feels despair, I guess – or adrenaline. I have this huge knot in my stomach like you get when you're really nervous. And there's this pain because I know I'm hurting everyone I know by doing this. I'll miss everyone so much, and all these little things I took for granted will be gone."

"What do you think you'll miss most in there apart from people?"

She thought about it for a moment. "The sun."

"The sun?"

"Peter, in all likelihood I'll be spending the next couple of months in locked basements with 20 other girls. If they move us they'll do it at night." Closing her eyes, she tilted up her face to the sky, letting the sun warm her skin. "I'm really going to miss this feeling."

Peter hadn't even thought of that. A sudden fear twisted through his gut. He was nowhere near as prepared for this as he thought he was. He thought he knew generally what it would be like for her in there. He had no idea.

"Well, sweetheart," he said softly to her, kissing her cheek. "I promise, when you get back, I'll take you for a drive down to this lake house my parents used to take me to and I'll show you the sunrise there."

She nodded meekly. "That sounds nice."

"What else do you feel?"

"I have this inescapable feeling like I have to soak everything up and appreciate it because in a day's time I won't have it anymore. There's this fear in me that I won't do enough before I go – that there'll still be things I didn't say or didn't do that I should have."

"Livia, we're gonna bring you home," he swore to her. "You're gonna see all of us again, so don't worry if there are things you haven't said. When you come back you'll have all the time in the world to say those things."

"I don't care. I can't go in tomorrow with any regrets."

He sighed. "So let's do it now."

"Do what?"

"Tell each other all the things we didn't say."

She nodded, nestling into his chest. "I don't know where to start," she said. "Is there something you want to know?"

He shook his head. "The only thing I need to know is that you love me. And I already know that."

"Come on, there has to be something."

"I don't know. Just tell me anything I don't already know about you. Something from before I met you."

She thought about it. She laughed suddenly.

"What?"

"Sorry, only really lame, sappy stuff is coming to my head."

"Tell me anyway."

They started going back and forth, spilling random secrets and memories from before they met. Peter told her about how he loved to catch fireflies as a kid, and she told him about how the other kids called her 'Han' in boarding school. Olivia always wanted to go to Europe. Peter wished he hadn't run away so much. Peter didn't believe in God, but Olivia wasn't sure. Olivia's favourite book was To Kill a Mockingbird because Atticus reminded her so much of her father. Peter wished he knew more about his heritage. They kept asking each other questions, learning all the things they never knew about each other. They're mission was to make each other forget about what was going on – and for a little while it even worked.

"That charm smile you always use against me is one of my favourite things about you, even though it frustrates me," she confessed.

"I can't resist frustrating you," he teased. "You're sexy when you're angry."

She slapped him playfully. "When did you first know you liked me?" she asked.

He thought about it. "Probably this one time you came around to the Whitehorse for a drink on your own. It was in your first few weeks at the Academy and you were missing home. We got talking and you were just really interesting. You had this confidence – like you knew exactly who you were. I didn't have that then – I was still wandering the world trying to find myself. It was intriguing to me. I was a goner after that conversation. I was…captivated by you."

She smiled and kissed him softly. "Do you remember on my birthday back in Quantico, when I was really upset? You took me out to this field where we threw shot glasses off a cliff."

"I remember."

"We had to walk along train tracks to get there, and you held my hand. That's when I knew."

"Knew what?"

"That I felt the same way you did."

"Wow," he laughed. "I never knew that."

Her face fell. "If we had enough time, I'd tell you everything," she said softly.

"Hey," he said, cupping her face. "We will have time. When you get back."

"I hope so."

"No, Olivia. We will," he swore, kissing her softly. "We'll have all the time in the world."

She wished she could believe that.

* * *

By they time they made it back to their apartment that night, they were quiet again. They'd been able to escape the truth for moments here and there, but it never stopped hanging over their heads. Almost as soon as they walked through the door, Olivia stopped and turned to him. She looked like she was going to cry. "Peter," she whispered, but no words followed.

"Hey," he murmured, brushing hair out of her face. "Shhh, sweetheart, it's gonna be OK."

Looking up she saw the honesty in his eyes. Clenching fistfuls of his shirt, she pulled him close and kissed him – long and languid and full of emotion. As always he was quick to respond, holding her face with desperate tenderness and winding his fingers through her hair. When the need for air finally became too much, they broke apart. Olivia buried her face against his shoulder as he stroked her hair. He could feel her warm, soft breaths tickling his chest. She stepped away and took his hand, walking with him back to their room.

Once inside, she turned and pulled him close again, kissing him while her hands ran over his chest, absorbing the heat radiating from his body. "Livia," he said softly but sincerely. "We don't have to do this. It's a rough night for both of us – I don't want you to feel like we have to -"

She just shook her head a little, and pressed a delicate finger against his lips. "We both need this." Her hand moved to cup his cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too," he replied. "More than you know."

He took her face in his hands and kissed her to prove his heart to her. The passion in it told her something that he never would have been able to express in words. They were both overcome by a need to feel close to each other - to absorb and memorise every taste and smell and touch before it was too late. As they made their way to the bed and began undressing each other, their movements were slow, precise, and never lacking in tenderness. There was so much uncertainty hanging between them – so much fear. All they wanted was to make each other forget about the storm ahead. If they could, just for a little while, provide each other with some comforting escape, it would be a miracle.

His lips moved down her neck as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt, breathing into his chest and running her fingers over the small patch of hair there. As her shirt was removed, he kissed down her chest until she felt the wet warmth of his tears smear the skin between her breasts. Stunned by the sensation, she pulled him back up, whispering a "Shh…" and kissing him softly, wiping the tears from his face. It was only when his thumb smoothed across her own cheek that she realised she was weeping too.

It wasn't long before the salt-stained kisses and gentle touches evolved into something else. The quiet gasps became breathy moans and whispered 'I love you's in the dark. Soft, explorative grazes of flesh became desperate, clinging grips. When they were both ready, she pulled him down for a kiss, guiding him inside her. The shared a shuddering gasp at the contact – both of them staggered by the sensation of being so physically and emotionally close to the one they loved. He ran a sweaty hand up her thigh to hold on to her hips as they started an easy pace designed only for loving in the most heartfelt physical way. His movements were slow and comforting, but deep and precise and full of promise as she pulled him close. The act was part vow, part catharsis. There was fragility in their gazes, but fire in their touches. And when they made their way over the edge together – their gazes into each other's eyes held steady, unwavering. He smiled faintly at her through bleary eyes and leaned down, kissed her with delicate affection. She shivered, feeling small.

"Please wait for me," she pleaded softly in the dark.

"I will. Please come back to me."

"I will."

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too."

Then and there, that was all they needed to know. She clasped his neck, and he leaned into her breath, and just for a moment, the darkness was easy.

**Please review this chap! Things are about to get waayyyyy intense**


	17. Going Under

**References: "we'll bring Olivia home" (Entrada)**

The next morning was heartbreaking. Olivia woke first and pulled herself closer to Peter's body, breathing in his scent and trying to fool herself into believing they had more time together. But she knew it wasn't true, so she opted for running her finger pads softly over his skin, watching him sleep and trying to memorise every detail of his face. He woke and kissed her with such sorrow it broke her heart. She prayed she would one day make it back home, knowing that if anything bad happened to her it would destroy him.

They got up and she changed into the clothes she'd bought for the mission. "How do I look?" she asked him, nervous.

"Stunning as usual," he said with a weak smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

"Peter, please."

He looked her over. "You look like a college freshman. Like 19 or 20."

"19 was what we were going for," she mumbled, fidgeting with the clothes.

"Don't worry - if that's what the FBI's told you to wear then I bet it's fine."

Peter went with Olivia to the federal building for last minute preparations, never letting go of her hand. They didn't care if anyone at work noticed or judged them. They activated the wiretap/GPS chip and Broyles gave her a last minute briefing on what they'd learned from the ZFT manifesto. Apparently they'd also received some new French intel saying Conrad was coming back to America in a few weeks to take girls from the ring for his experiments, so she had a real shot of identifying him if she played her cards right.

"Just remember you're training," said Broyles. "We'll be looking after you as much as we can and you know which code words to use if you need to get out or if you see Conrad. Is there anything you want to ask me before you go?"

"No, sir."

"Then good luck, Dunham," he said sincerely, shaking her hand.

The others in the unit said their goodbyes. Lincoln and Charlie both gave her heartfelt, brotherly hugs. "Be careful in there, Liv," said Lincoln.

Charlie just smiled in his reassuring way. "Don't worry, Livvy. You're gonna be fine. But I'll miss you while you're gone. Come back soon, OK?"

"I'll try, Charlie. I'm gonna miss you guys, too."

The undercover guy who was going to be taking her in came over to them. "You ready to go, Dunham?"

She looked between him and Peter. "Could we have a few minutes?"

"Sure thing. Take your time," he said, giving them a sympathetic look.

Olivia tugged on Peter's hand to a spot that gave them more privacy. Neither of them really knew what to say – so much had been said already and yet it hadn't nearly been enough. Peter tucked some hair behind her ear and touched her face with tender affection. "Olivia," he said, his voice weighed down under the pressure of their uncertain future. "I know what I'm about to ask of you goes against your nature but here me out, OK?" He stopped and fought to contain himself. "Please, Livia, don't be a hero. I know you'd die for another person but please, you've gotta come back to me. If it comes down to you or some other girl, please just look out for yourself -"

"Peter," she interrupted, taking his face in her hands. "I will come back to you. I promise you that. I'll come home, and we'll go to your parents' lake house like you said, and we'll start over like it never happened. I'm gonna come home."

"You better," he replied softly, bringing up his bleary eyes to meet hers. "I'll be thinking of you every day, and taking care of Rachael, and I'll do everything I can to help this team bring you back."

She looked down at their interlocked fingers. "You know that drawer by your bed where you keep the bracelet I gave you when I left Quantico? I've left something there for you."

"Thank you. But you didn't have to go to the trouble."

"Yes I did." She gripped his hands a little tighter. "Peter, I'm scared."

"I'm scared, too. But we're gonna beat this, just like we beat everything else." He exhaled, his breath shaky. "Livia, sweetheart, I love you so much. No matter what happens in there, I will always love you just the same. You have to know that."

"I know," she said, pulling him into a desperately tight hug. "And I love you, too. Always." She pulled out of the hug and brought her hands to his face, kissing him ardently, frankly not caring if anyone saw her. He responded with all the strength and passion inside him, both of them clinging to each other desperately. But inevitably the need for air became too great and they broke apart. Peter took her hands in his and kissed her again, softer this time but it still spoke volumes. There's nothing so sad as the kiss you know is the last one.

She looked back to where the other agent was waiting and hung her head. "I have to go now."

"I know," he said, his voice dead. "Try and be safe, Olivia. Please."

"I promise. Please wait for me."

"Of course I will. Just come home." He squeezed her hand. "You belong with me," he said.

She nodded and ran a thumb over the back of his hand. Her touch was warm and smooth and he wanted to cry and kick and scream. The moment he released his desperate grip on her hand, he regretted it. He could see it in her face too – the immediate pain that registered with the realisation that it may be the last time they ever touched each other.

And that was it. She was gone. Peter ran a hand over his face, unable to break from his standstill. He felt Charlie's hand on his shoulder. "She's gonna be fine, man."

Peter nodded, though he wasn't sure he believed his friend. He looked up to find Broyles gazing at him sympathetically. "If anything happens to her, it's on you," he said coldly to Broyles.

"Peter, we'll bring Olivia home," Broyles assured him.

Peter wanted to argue but he couldn't bring himself to. He needed too much for it to be true.

* * *

"So where are we going?" Olivia asked the male undercover agent who was driving her.

"Over to the Western District," he said. "I've been in the ring there for a few months. I'm gonna drop you off at a café. The manager recruits girls to the brothels against their will. She's offering a waitressing job but she'll probably offer you something else. Whatever she offers you, take it – that's your way in. I trust you have a character sorted out?"

"Yeah."

"Name?"

"Holly Cornish."

"Not bad. You pick it?"

"They guys at work, actually," she said. "So who are you to me?"

"My undercover name's Russ Voigt. I'm just a volunteer you met at a free dinner at that old church on 32nd street."

"These guys pick up homeless kids at church shelters?" She scoffed cynically. "These bastards keep getting better and better, huh?"

"Tell me about it." He sighed. "We're almost there."

She held her backpack close to her chest, trying to quell the anxiety inside her.

"I'd tell you more but frankly your reactions will be more believable the less you know," he explained.

"I understand."

They reached the café and Olivia forced herself to swallow her fears and play the part of an oblivious teen. She got out of the car and looked up at the building. It stunned her. It just looked so normal. The agent knocked on the door despite the 'Closed' sign and a middle-aged woman answered and invited them in.

"Hello, dear," she said to Olivia. "I'm guessing you're the young lady Russ told me is looking for a job."

"Yes ma'am," she said politely.

"I'm Denise," the woman said, shaking her head with a kind smile.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Holly," Olivia replied. She was stunned by the woman's warmth. She seemed so unthreatening – no wonder girls trusted her.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, dear. Why don't we sit down and have a coffee so I can learn a little more about you?"

"Sure."

The woman turned to the male agent. "Thanks for bringing her in, Russ. I'll take it from here."

"Sure thing. See you, Holly, good luck."

"Thanks, Russ," Olivia said as he left.

Denise gave her a warm smile and got them some drinks, sitting down with her at a table. "So tell me a bit about yourself. Russ said he met you at one of the free dinners at the church."

"Yeah. I haven't really got much money so I've been eating there the last couple of weeks. Russ was volunteering a lot and we just got talking. He was so sweet, telling me you were looking for a new waitress – I really need a job."

"Are you from around here?"

"No, I'm from this little town called Marshfield Hills. It's kind of near Weymouth. I moved to the city because I thought there'd be more work here. It's just harder to find a job than I thought it'd be."

Denise finished making their drinks and motioned for her to sit at one of the tables. "But you're so young," she said. "Are you saving for college?"

Olivia gave her an embarrassed smile and let her hair fall over her face. "I can't really afford college, ma'am," she said shyly.

"Excuse me for asking, but why do you need to work so badly? Did something happen at home?"

Olivia's face fell a little and she shrugged. "My mum's really sick – she can't work much anymore. I just finished high school so I figured I'd work to try and pay the bills."

"Oh, dear, I'm so sorry. And your father?"

She looked down. "We haven't seen him in a long time."

"Oh, that's a shame. Well, it's a good thing you're trying to earn some money. I'd be glad to help you if I can."

"I'd really appreciate that."

"So do you have any other family?"

"No, not really."

"A boyfriend?"

Olivia knew this was a trick question – if she portrayed herself as a virgin it could stop her from being raped if only for a little while. She could be sold at a higher price that way. She blushed a little and gave Denise a demure smile. "I had a couple at school, but nobody serious," she said shyly. "I never really had time for guys. I was always too focused on taking care of my mum, you know?"

"No, that's good. Boys in high school only want one thing. It's better to wait till they've grown up a bit and know how to treat a lady."

Olivia laughed innocently. "Yeah, my mum told me the same thing."

"Well, she was right," Denise said with a smile. "But I'm sure you broke a lot of hearts that way. You're such a pretty girl, Holly."

Olivia blushed again, smiling shyly and tucking some hair behind her ear. "Thank you."

"How old are you?"

"19."

"So much responsibility for such a young girl," Denise said, shaking her head. "I was thinking of bringing you on as a waitress but I think I may have something better for you. Are you good with kids?"

"Yeah, pretty good. I used to help out at my church's Sunday school all the time back home. Why?"

"Well, my sister's looking for someone to help her look after her kids and clean up around the house. She'd pay you well for it and give you a place to stay, she's very fair. But I'd have to drive you over - they live in New York."

Olivia's eyes went wide in awe. "Really? New York? That's so cool."

"It's a great city. I'm sure you'd like it there."

"You really think she'd take me?"

"Well, I'd have to call and make sure, but she's been desperate to find a good babysitter and she's had no luck so far. I think you might be just what she's looking for."

"Wow. It'd mean a lot to me if you could ask her."

Denise went off to call someone and came back beaming. "Well, I have good news. She'd love to have you."

"Really? Thank you so much!"

"When would you like to start?"

"Well, as soon as I can. I mean, I don't have much money left and I don't know anyone here," Olivia said. "I'll get the train over when she's ready to have me."

"Oh don't be silly, Holly, I'll just drive you over in the morning. It's only a couple of hours."

"Oh, no, I couldn't ask you to do that."

"It's fine, honey, don't worry about it. I'm happy to help. Besides it's my day off tomorrow, the other manager's running the café. I'd feel better knowing you got to New York safely. It can be a scary city sometimes."

"Thank you, I'd appreciate the lift."

"Where are you staying tonight, honey?"

"I was just going to go back to the shelter at Russ' church. They can save a bed for me most nights."

"Oh no, sweetheart, don't go back there. Just stay with me for tonight and we can head to New York in the morning."

"Ma'am, you're already giving me so much, I could never ask you -"

"Please, Holly, it'd be my pleasure to help. You seem like you're going through a really rough time and the moment and I'd like to do what I can."

"Are you sure? I don't want to trouble you."

"You'd be no trouble at all, dear."

Olivia hung her head, embarrassed. "I have no way to pay you back for any of this."

"Don't you worry about that, love. God knows you have enough to worry about. I'd love to have you."

The last thing Olivia wanted to do was be anywhere near this woman, but remembering that she was playing the part of a desperate teen, she had to say yes. "Let me at least help you in the café today," she said. "It's the least I could do."

And so she worked all day and then stayed at Denise's house that night, and it was largely uneventful. Olivia hardly slept, the whole night she was thinking of Peter and what he must be going through.

Meanwhile, back at the Federal Building, Peter was listening desperately to the feed from the wiretap. Nothing more was coming through so he figured Olivia had just gone to sleep. He finally made it home and looked through his drawer for the gift Olivia had left him. Right underneath that bracelet she'd given him when she left Quantico, she had wrapped something flat with a note attached. It said:

_Peter,_

_Don't be scared. I'll be back soon. _

_I hope this helps you get through the silent nights at home. _

_I love you always,_

_Olivia_

Eyes watering, he tore off the wrapping paper to reveal a large book with beautiful designs on the covers. The very texture of it felt precious in his hands. He flicked through the high-quality paper and noticed the pages were lined with empty music sheets. No notes, only lined bars. He realised she'd bought this so he could write down all the songs he wrote instead of remembering them in his head or recording them on scrap paper. Smiling, he took a pen and began to write in all the songs he had already written, wondering how many more he'd write for her by the time she got back.

* * *

The next day Denise drove Olivia to New York. Olivia knew that she wasn't really being driven to her sister's house, but had to pretend to be oblivious. Her character had no reason to be scared. Not yet.

Denise stopped the car outside a normal house in a regular neighbourhood. Olivia was struck by how mundane this all seemed – how unthreatening. A man came over to greet them with a smile. "You must be Holly. I'm Tom."

"Nice to meet you."

"He's my brother in law," Denise explained. "Tom where are the kids?"

"There at school. I was just heading over to pick them up anyway. Holly, would you like to come? I figured the kids should meet you as soon as they can. You're gonna love them – they can get a bit cheeky sometimes but they're really sweet."

"Sure. How old are they?" she asked. She knew all of this was a lie but she had no choice to play along.

"Jamie's four and Marcus is seven." Tom unlocked his car door for Olivia. "Why don't you wait in the car, Holly? I've got to talk to Denise about something."

"Sure. Thanks so much for your help, Denise," she said.

"It was my pleasure, dear," she replied.

Olivia smiled and against her better judgement, got in the car. Once she was in there, she switched back in to agent mode, straining her ears to catch any snippet of the conversation. In the rear-view mirror she could see Tom hand Denise an envelope which she assumed was full of money. Denise looked through it and scoffed. "I'm gonna need more than this. She's expensive," Olivia heard her say.

"Anybody fucked her yet?"

"Doesn't sound like it."

"You better not be lying to me."

"When have I ever sold you bad product? She's pure. If you won't pay up then I'll take her to somebody else."

Tom exhaled and handed her another huge wad of cash until Denise was satisfied. When they were done talking, Olivia felt Tom get into the driver's seat next to her. "You ready to go, kiddo?"

"Sure," Olivia said, forcing a smile.

As he drove he made small talk, trying to keep her oblivious to what was really going on. Olivia tried to distract herself by looking out the window and admiring the city while she had the chance – she'd always loved New York. After a while it got really obvious that they were going nowhere near a school.

"Where are you taking me?" she finally asked in a soft voice.

"That's none of your concern," he said coldly.

"No, I want to know what's going on!"

He took one hand off the steering wheel to pull out a gun, the metal digging into her side. "Keep your fucking mouth shut," he snarled. Olivia bit her lip and tried not to cry. Having been shot once before, the gun made her genuinely scared. She knew what was happening but had to force herself to remember that her character didn't.

"Please don't kill me," she whimpered. "I'll do anything you want. Just please don't kill me."

He smirked. "Don't worry, nobody's gonna kill you yet. You're about to make a lot of men very happy, sweetheart. You're not bad, you know. They'd pay good money for a girl like you."

"What are you talking about? I haven't done anything to you, just let me go. I won't tell the police or anything, I promise. I just want to go home. Please."

"Not a chance."

They stopped outside a motel. Olivia shivered, getting the message. "Please don't do this," she begged him. "Please, I'm a virgin. I'll do anything else, I swear -"

"Get out of the car."

"What? No, please -"

"Bitch, you've got me confused with a man who repeats himself," he spat, cocking the gun and pushing it painfully into her ribs.

She gasped and nodded quickly, getting out. He gripped her arm roughly and led her around to the back entrance. There were a bunch of ferocious dogs chained up that growled and barked at her as they walked down some steps to a basement. He walked her through a corridor with barred up doors to locked rooms until they were met by a middle-aged woman. The woman looked her over like she was inspecting a piece of meat. "How old are you?" she asked sharply.

Olivia didn't answer, just looked at her feet and wept. Seeing this place, thinking that she was going to be stuck here for weeks, terrified her.

The woman tipped her chin up. "When I ask you a question you answer. How old are you?"

"19," she whimpered.

"She's healthy. Pure product," Tom said.

Olivia shivered as the woman brushed some hair out of her face and wiped away her tears. "She's pretty," she said to Tom, handing him an enormous amount of money, more than what Tom had paid for her. Olivia was sickened – she felt like she was being traded like livestock. Tom finally released the grip he had on Olivia's arm and she pulled it away, massaging the bruised skin. "Don't be scared, honey," the woman said. "I'll take care of you. What's your name?"

"Holly."

"Give me that," she said, tugging Olivia's backpack off and searching through the clothes in there, finding all her money and the fake IDs the FBI had made for her. Keeping Olivia's belongings, the woman took her to one of the rooms and unlocked the door. A bunch of other girls were already in there, huddled together on mattresses on the floor. They looked scared but relief crossed their faces when they realised it was only women at the door.

The woman pushed Olivia firmly inside. "Get some rest. You're gonna need it," she said, slamming the door shut behind her.

**Please review! Hope you enjoyed that last bit of P/O coz things are getting very hard for them next chap…**


	18. Into the Dark

**References: Olivia's conversation with Justine (The Abducted), "She's waiting for Conrad" (The Transformation), **

When Peter woke up at 5am, he could still smell Olivia on his pillow. He closed his eyes and breathed it in, but the sheets next to him were cold. He tried to fool himself into thinking that she wasn't undercover, she was just in the kitchen making breakfast. But he knew it wasn't true.

He got up and went over to the Federal Building. "Early morning relief, guys," he said to the men who'd been on the wiretap all night. "Anything come through yet?"

"I think she's still asleep, man," an agent said, yawning.

"Thanks for your help – I really appreciate it. Go get some rest," Peter said, taking his spot at the computer. Broyles had allowed him access to the Federal Building so he could talk to the agents about what progress they were making. He'd go back to the lab to help Walter with his experiments during the day, but at night or early in the morning it gave him comfort to come over and know that there was a whole FBI department working their asses off to help his girlfriend.

So far things were going OK. Olivia had just survived her first night living in the brothel and so far her act was very convincing. The FBI had as much control over the situation as they could get - they had the wire on Olivia, UCs inside doing their best to keep an eye on her without blowing their cover, and they had eyes on her location. Plus she was a remarkable agent, well trained and in good hands. Even so, Peter couldn't escape the feeling of dread that threatened to drown him.

Putting his headphones on, he heard that Olivia and the other girls in the basement were still sleeping, so he decided to play back the things he missed last night. Once the brothel owner had taken her to stay with the other girls, not much had happened. Mostly she'd just talked to a couple of girls and tried to learn about them. He saw in the reports the other agents had written that she'd gotten the full names of some girls, so they were looking up those old missing persons cases.

After a while he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Charlie. "Hey," he mumbled, exhausted.

"You're here early," said Charlie. "When did you get here?"

"About 5:30. What time is it now?"

"Nearly 7," he said, taking a seat at the computer next to Peter and putting his headphones on. "She's still asleep, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Why don't you take a break, Peter? Go get some coffee. Don't worry; I'll call you if she wakes up."

Peter nodded gratefully and rubbed his eyes, tearing his headphones off and walking away.

* * *

Olivia eventually woke from a restless sleep to realise it hadn't all just been a terrible nightmare. Looking around the room she saw that most of the girls were still asleep. Most were in their late teens or early twenties, some younger or older. She'd gotten to know a couple of them last night. Some girls had been there for a while, while others only recently came in from overseas or were kidnapped in the US. Some of them had already been raped and had been taken away to work last night, while others were virgins and were being saved for a big sale, probably to Conrad.

"Hey," a small voice said.

Olivia looked around to see that another girl was awake. She was Asian-American, with delicate features, and was much younger than Olivia.

"Hey," Olivia replied. She knew she'd seen this girl somewhere before - she never forgot a face – but she couldn't place it. "I'm Holly. What's your name?"

"Justine."

Olivia's eyes went wide when she realised. This was that girl from Charlie's first child kidnapping case in the CAC. They'd found her – Charlie was going to be so happy.

"You're the new girl, aren't you?" Justine asked.

Olivia nodded, motioning for the girl to sit with her. "They told me I was coming to New York for a housekeeping job, but they lied to me. How did you get here?"

Justine came over to sit on Olivia's mattress. "I'm from Boston. I was walking home from school like I always do and this car stopped next to me. Next thing I know three guys jumped out and dragged me in. I tried to kick and yell but nothing happened. I was in a brothel in Boston for a couple of months but they moved me up here recently because they say they're going to sell me soon."

Olivia gently put an arm around her shoulders. "How old are you? 13?"

"I just turned 14. You?"

"19." Olivia stroked the girl's long black hair and noticed she was crying. "Sweetheart, has anybody hurt you?"

Justine started trembling as she kept crying.

"Justine, what is it? You can tell me."

The girl sniffled and wiped her face with her sleeve. "Nobody's, you know…_done it _with me yet. They said they're waiting to give me to someone important because I'm so young," she whimpered. "But they've made me do…other stuff. And they took photos and videos while they..." she trailed off and dissolved into sobs.

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry that happened to you," Olivia said, holding her close. She couldn't imagine what this girl had survived. The footage of it would be all over the internet by now. Olivia mentally added Child Pornography to ZFT's ever-expanding resume of crimes.

Justine started crying harder. "I didn't want to. But they told me if I don't do what they say, they'll hurt my mum and dad."

"That is not going to happen," Olivia assured her. "I bet your parents are worried sick about you and are doing everything they can to get you back."

"I hate it here," Justine sobbed softly. "I want to go home. I miss my family, and my school. I'm so scared."

"I know, sweetheart. I'm scared too. But all of us have to be strong for each other so we can have some hope in this place."

She kept getting to know Justine, praying that the agents listening on the wiretap and picking up on who the girl was. Later on she went to have a shower in the tiny bathroom attached to their room, and while she was alone she figured it was her only chance to send a quiet message to whoever was listening.

* * *

By that point the Federal Building was alive and bustling with busy agents. Peter and some others were on the wiretap. He'd been listening to Olivia's conversation and was proud of her for being so reassuring to the young girl. She went off to have a shower when suddenly he heard her voice again.

"_Uh, this is Olivia Dunham. I have a message for Junior Agent Charlie Francis of the FBI,"_ they heard her whisper. The agents at the computers all looked at each other and told everyone around them to shut up so they could all hear her message. Peter stood up and frantically searched the room.

"CHARLIE!" he shouted.

"What?"

"Olivia's on the wire. She's talking to you."

Charlie dropped whatever file he was studying and ran over, throwing on a pair of headphones.

"_Charlie, I really hope you're listening, but I'm sure the other agents will pass this along to you if you're not."_

"It's OK, Livvy, I'm here," he said aloud, even though he knew she couldn't hear him.

"_Charlie I found the girl from your missing kid case – Justine Guo. I remember her from the photos you showed me when we were looking at the case together. She's here, Charlie, we're sharing a room. I can't believe it but I swear it's true. She's OK for now. She's been abused for sure, probably oral sex, but not raped yet. I think she's going to be kept for a big sale like me. I'm gonna do what I can to look after her. But we found her, Charlie. We're gonna bring her home to her parents."_

"That's my girl," Charlie said, smiling broadly.

"_I have to go. I miss you, Charlie. Tell Peter I love him and I miss him too. Bye."_

The CAC agents listening all cheered at their success – they'd finally found a missing kid they'd spent months searching for. Peter patted Charlie on the shoulder. "Congratulations, man. I know how long you've wanted to hear that this girl is alive. You really cared about that case."

Charlie nodded, beaming. "Yeah. Today's a good day."

"I'm just glad Olivia's not going through all this for nothing. Charlie, I was just listening to Olivia's conversation with Justine. It's recorded so I'll play it back for you."

"Thanks," Charlie said with a huge smile.

Peter set up the playback for him, and he couldn't help but smile back. For the first time since the mission began, he was totally and fearlessly proud of Olivia.

* * *

Later in the day, a few of the male guards working in the brothel came to bring the girls some food. Olivia was weary of drugs or something being in the food but she pushed those fears aside, knowing she couldn't fight her hunger any longer. She hungrily devoured her food, failing to notice the way the guards were staring at her.

"Looks like we've got some fresh meat, boys," one of the guys laughed. He strolled over to Olivia – smiling seedily, gun in hand. "So you're Holly, huh?"

Olivia nodded, swallowing her food in a frightened gulp.

He crouched down and reached out to her but she jerked away. "Don't touch me!" she snapped at him.

He just laughed, and the other guards laughed along with him. He leered at her, stepping closer and roughly grabbed a fistful of her hair. She cried out – the pain was sudden and astonishing. "Let go of me, you son of a bitch!" she cried, but he didn't release her. The more she struggled the tighter his grip became. She felt Justine cower away in fear next to her, trying not to cry.

The man traced the features of her face gently with the tip of his thumb. "So you're a virgin, huh? It's a damn shame I've got to keep you that way."

"Doesn't mean we can't have some fun, Al," another guy laughed.

"That's true." The man smiled again – his eyes dark with arousal. He pulled her up, painfully tugging on her hair. "You're coming with me, princess."

* * *

Peter and the others listened in horror as this was going on. "BROYLES!" one of the agents shouted across the room. "We've got an emergency!"

Broyles quit working and ran over to them at the computers. "What's the situation?"

"Some men are dragging Agent Dunham away to assault her as we speak."

Broyles closed his eyes, exhaling. "I'll call one of the UCs. See if they can put a stop to this."

"Why isn't she giving the signal?" Lincoln asked. "We could go in there and get her out, arrest everybody -"

"She's waiting for Conrad. She wants to get him," Charlie explained. "Damn it, Liv…"

But amid this commotion, Peter was frozen in fear and rage. His face was drained of all colour, his hands gripping the table until his knuckles turned white. All he wanted to do was slaughter those men who had her but he couldn't – and that made him sick to his stomach. He cringed at the sound of Olivia screaming and struggling through his headphones. "Come on, sweetheart," he whispered to himself. "_Fight_."

* * *

**Warning - violent bit here. Skip if you need to:**

And Olivia fought hard. She flailed and kicked and screamed all the way as the four men dragged her out of the room and down the corridor. They tossed her into an empty room and closed the door behind them. She tried to scramble away and run for the door but they just caught her and held her back. "Where you going, baby?" the guy holding her taunted her. He shoved her against the concrete wall and ground against her struggling body, his hands all over her. "Don't you wanna play with us?"

"LET ME GO!" she screamed, genuine terror and anger in her voice. This was like Harris all over again. Except this time there were four of him. "Get your hands off of me!"

"You know you like it." As the man's hands went under her shirt, she did the only thing she could think of. She kept struggling and screaming, then hit her forehead against his nose. He cried out and stepped back, clutching his bleeding face. He groaned in pain. "I'll kill her, that FUCKING BITCH!"

She made a break for it but the other three just held her back. One of the guys laughed. "Looks like we've got a feisty one, boys!" Another guy punched her hard across the face and she fell to the floor. She'd barely registered the impact when the man whose nose she broke came over and kicked her in the stomach twice, hard. She choked and fought to breathe, tears coming to her eyes. She couldn't hold back the fear anymore, sobbing at the intense pain.

He pulled her hair and forced her to look at him. "You'll pay for that, princess," he growled.

"What should we do, boys?"

Laughter. "Use your imagination."

"Real shame we can't fuck her."

"She's got a pretty mouth, though, huh?"

"Yeah, she really does," the broken nose guy muttered, tracing her lips with his thumb. She sobbed and struggled, but he only punched her in the gut again. She writhed against the coarse concrete ground, fighting for breath as someone else kicked her in the ribs.

"I'm taking her first," said the man who first approached her earlier. He was clearly their leader.

"WHAT? She's mine, she broke my fucking nose!"

"I saw her first, and last time I checked you work for me. Give me the fucking girl."

The broken nose guy grunted and pulled her by her hair off the ground. She cried out, trying to stand up to ease the pain. He tossed her at the leader's feet. He smirked down at her, tilting her face up to him. "Get on your knees, princess."

"NO!" she screamed, fighting against them with all she had.

"Hold on to her for me, would you, boys?"

Six arms held her tight in a kneeling position and tried to keep her from struggling. She screamed and fought as hard as she possibly could, but it wasn't enough. They were just too strong, and there were just too many of them.

"I'll bite you," she snarled at the leader. "Don't think I won't do it."

The only response she got was a cocked gun against her temple.

She felt nauseatingly powerless and started to cry. There was no way out. Their leader brushed the tears from her cheeks. "Don't cry, baby," he said with a cruel, sleazy smile. "You'll like it, I promise."

"Fuck you!" she spat at him, still struggling and crying.

"Now, now, none of that," he teased, gripping her hair tight in his hand, making her whimper. He used his other hand to undo his pants, exposing himself to her. She was nauseous, suddenly realising how close she was to being forced to suck this guy off.

That's when she broke.

"Please," she sobbed. "Please don't do this." She was ashamed for begging, but she was almost out of fight.

Her fear just made him more excited. His hand went to pinch her nose closed so she'd open her mouth to breathe. "Now be a good girl and swallow what I give you."

She shook her head vehemently and held her breath, keeping her mouth shut. Frustrated, he backhanded her across the face, hard and fast, setting a bonfire on her skin. She cried out at the pain and he grabbed her hair again.

**Violence over:**

Just then, the door flew open and a man stormed in. "What the fuck are you guys doing?" he shouted, tearing the leader from her.

"Get out of here, Marshall - unless you wanna join in."

"You know Maria's saving her for Conrad! We're not supposed to fuck with his girls!"

"Conrad's not gonna know, and neither is Maria," he said, pulling his pants back up. "We were just having fun, weren't we, baby?" the leader said, stroking her face, but she jerked from his touch.

Marshall came and knelt before her, pushing the three others away from her and sympathetically studied her injuries. "What the fuck have you done to her face? We can't sell her like this, Alamein," he said to the leader.

"Bruises fade, Marshall. It's not the end of the world," he chuckled.

Marshall scoffed. "You thugs are so busy fucking the girls you don't know how to run a fucking business." He picked Olivia up. "I'm taking her to Maria. She needs to get checked out. And if I hear of you guys fucking with Conrad's girls again, I'll make sure there's hell to pay."

Marshall started carrying Olivia out of the room down the corridor and she screamed and struggled. This guy probably wanted her all to himself. "PUT ME DOWN, YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

"Relax. I'm not gonna hurt you, alright?"

"LET ME GO!"

"Dunham, calm down! I'm a UC," he whispered, even though they were alone. "Broyles called me and told me you were in trouble. I found you as soon as I could."

She started crying out of relief then. He knew her name. She collapsed against him and sobbed.

"I'm gonna take you to the woman who runs this place, alright? She'll treat your injuries."

"OK," she whimpered.

"Dunham, I'm sorry to have to ask this but were you gang raped? Or sexually assaulted? Was I too late?"

To his relief she shook her head. "They hit me," she sobbed. "And they tried…I didn't want to…If you hadn't got there -"

"It's OK. You're safe now. It could have been worse but it wasn't and that's all that matters. Now that I've talked to them I don't think they'll touch you again. If they do, Broyles will let one of us know and we'll get there as soon as we can. We've got your back, Dunham."

Her sobs became quiet whimpers. "Thank you," she murmured. Exhaustion took over and she rested against his chest as he carried her.

He took her to the same middle-aged woman who had bought her from Tom the day before. "What happened?" Maria asked, rushing over to inspect Olivia.

"Alamein and his guys got her."

"Fucking pricks," she scolded. "They know they're not supposed to touch the pure product."

"They weren't gonna fuck her. They just wanted to play with her a little bit. But I told them, she's one of Conrad's girls, they can't go there."

"Poor thing," Maria muttered as Marshall lay her down on a bed. She put ice against Olivia's bruised ribs, washing her face of any blood and tears. "I'm sorry, honey. That wasn't meant to happen. We're gonna look after you. Shhh…" she said softly as Olivia whimpered in pain. She couldn't understand this woman – she was caring and compassionate now, and yet she was OK with selling other women into sexual slavery?

Then Olivia realised. It was all just business, and she was just a product to this woman. Nothing more.

* * *

Peter paced furiously in Fringe Division bathroom, head in his hands. He'd already thrown up twice. He wasn't sure there was anything left in him. He kicked a cubicle door opposite him, hard – letting it bang loudly as it swung back and forth.

"Peter," he heard Charlie's voice call, his footsteps not far behind.

"Go away, Charlie," he mumbled, wiping his eyes.

Charlie ignored him and came over anyway. He was sick to his stomach after hearing what they'd just heard, so he couldn't imagine how Peter was feeling. He adored that girl. "She got out, man. She's gonna be OK," he said, trying to comfort him.

"And how many more narrow escapes will she have, huh? How long's it gonna be until she gets gang raped?"

"I was just on the wire. She's being treated for the beating she took and the guys who did it are being disciplined. They won't be allowed near her again. The UCs are gonna keep her safe."

Peter shook his head, his fists clenched in anger and frustration. "She needs me, Charlie. And I can't help her. All I want to do is beat the life out of those bastards but I can't. I can't do anything!"

"You are helping her. You're working your ass off on the case just like the rest of us."

"But it's not enough! Is it?" he shouted back. He exhaled and softened, falling back against the wall and sliding down to sit on the floor. He seemed to crumble, collapsing into a ball and putting his head in his hands.

"Peter…" Charlie said softly, sitting down with him.

Peter kept shaking his head. He wiped his eyes with his palms and he started trembling. A strangled sound escaped him. "Charlie, I want her back," he choked. "I just want her back."

Charlie nodded, not knowing what to say. He just put a hand on Peter's shoulder, squeezing tight.

**Please review! It was tougher for me to write than for you to read, so a review would be greatly appreciated : )**


	19. Smack

Olivia was woken up early one morning by a bunch of women being brought back from "working" all night. She knew it had been a bad night for them. The clients had been rough, she could tell. Some of them had come back somewhat normal, while others had to be helped in, arms over two other girls' shoulders, heads hung and faces swollen with bruises. Olivia and the other "pure" girls who hadn't worked ran over to help them inside.

"Justine, can you go get some water?" Olivia asked the girl, and she ran off the bathroom. They were used to this routine by now. Justine came back with a bucket and some washcloths as Olivia helped a battered girl, Sasha, lie down on her mattress. "Rough night?" she asked Shevonne, an Irish woman of about 27.

"You've got no idea," she muttered, bitterly wiping tear stained make-up off her face. "I had about 25 clients all up yesterday, half an hour each. But Sasha had a few of her regulars come in with friends so they could share her, split the cost. She was getting fucked by three or four guys each session most of the night."

"Oh my God," Olivia murmured, inspecting Sasha's bloodied face. The girl whimpered as she tried to clean her skin with a wet cloth. "I'm so sorry, Sasha, but I have to clean these cuts or they'll get infected."

"It's OK," she breathed. Sasha was Russian and could speak pretty good English, but nonetheless Olivia was glad the girl could understand that she was trying to help.

Olivia heard a gasp and noticed Justine standing beside her, staring down at the brutalised girl with teary eyes. "Hey," Olivia whispered, gently tugging on her hand. "Don't look, OK? Go wait on your bed. She's gonna be fine."

But Justine was frozen. She couldn't tear her eyes away. "We'll be like this one day, won't we, Holly?" she whispered.

"That's not going to happen, sweetheart. Go back to sleep."

Justine finally nodded and trudged back to her mattress, curling into a ball and hiding under her blanket. Olivia went back to treating Sasha but Shevonne scoffed.

"What?"

"You shouldn't lie to her," Shevonne scolded.

"She's fourteen. Am I supposed to tell her that this is her future?" Olivia shot back, gesturing to Sasha.

"Yes, you should."

"She's too young. We have to give her some kind of hope in this place."

"Hope gets you nowhere," Shevonne scoffed. "She'll learn the truth soon enough. And so will you. Just coz you're a virgin doesn't mean they're gonna leave you alone forever. Stop lying to yourself, Holly."

Olivia bit her tongue and continued to clean Sasha's face. "Sasha, what else hurts?"

"Everything," she whimpered. "Everything hurts."

"You shouldn't have fought them, Sash," Shevonne said. "Trust me, I've been doing this a long time. If you just let them get on with it, it won't hurt so much."

"No," Sasha insisted, shaking her head vehemently. "A woman with dignity does not do this."

"You got a kid?" Shevonne spat back.

"No. I am only 20."

"Well, I do. She's five," she said, tears in her eyes. "And these bastards know where she lives. I was stupid enough to give them my address when I was applying for the job I thought I was coming to America for. And they keep reminding me that if my clients ever complain they'll have their friends in Belfast slit my husband's throat before they fuck her. So you try having that hanging over your head and then come and talk to me about dignity," she spat, storming off.

"Don't listen to her," Olivia whispered, still cleaning Sasha's wounds. "I know you did everything you could last night."

Sasha nodded, starting to cry. "I tried," she whimpered. "I tried so hard." That was all she said before she fell into sobs, the crying only intensifying the pain of her bruised ribs. She was sobbing something in Russian and Olivia wished she could understand or know what to say to her. One of her Russian friends came over to speak to her and managed to soothe her until she eventually fell asleep.

* * *

Peter sat at his desk in the lab and groaned in frustration. He was trying to help Walter with his studies but he couldn't concentrate at all. His mind was always on Olivia and how she was going. She'd been away from him for almost two weeks now and things had calmed down somewhat. She'd been able to hear some more names and information, so the FBI was working hard running everything through databases and investigating her leads. She wasn't being attacked anymore, which gave Peter some relief, but there was no guarantee that things would stay that way.

"What's the matter, son?" Walter asked, chewing on a doughnut.

Peter rubbed his eyes. "Just thinking about Olivia."

"I see." He held out the box of doughnuts to Peter. "Would you like one?"

"No, thanks."

"You haven't eaten anything this morning, Peter."

"I'm not hungry," he mumbled. "Leave me alone, Walter. I already can't concentrate and you're not helping."

"You know what helps me when I'm down, don't you?" Walter asked with a bright smile. "Music!"

"I don't want to hear you sing, Walter, but thank you."

His father looked disheartened. "Fine, I'll just put on the radio," he mumbled, trudging away.

Peter sighed and tried to get back to work when he heard the radio start up. "And now we've got something special for you guys," the voice coming over the radio announced. "The all new single from Three Doors Down! Perfect way to start off the weekend."

Peter listened as the music started up. He loved this band, so he thought that hearing their new song would lift his spirits a bit. But as the lyrics began, he was even more drawn in.

_A hundred days have made me older  
Since the last time that I saw your pretty face  
A thousand lies have made me colder  
And I don't think I can look at this the same  
But all the miles that separate  
Disappear now when I'm dreaming of your face  
_

He smiled weakly, thinking of how this was such a crazy coincidence – his favourite band bringing out a song that seemed to speak to him directly about Olivia. He left his work and went to the radio, turning up the music.

_I'm here without you baby  
But you're still on my lonely mind  
I think about you baby  
And I dream about you all the time  
I'm here without you baby  
But you're still with me in my dreams  
And tonight it's only you and me  
_

He laughed, thinking this could not be any more clichéd. He loved the song immediately. He wrote down its name so he'd be sure to remember it, and couldn't wait to get home that night and write up a piano ballad version just for Olivia to hear when she got home. Suddenly missing her, he decided to abandon his lab work to drive to the Federal Building and check up on the wiretap. He just needed to hear her voice.

When he got there he put on his headphones and heard Olivia actually laughing. The sound astonished him – he hadn't heard it in a week. She was trying to keep Justine happy, telling her funny stories and playing clapping games from primary school. But all the laughter stopped when the heavy door of their room creaked open…

* * *

All the girls stopped what they were doing and stared at the open door in fear. Justine gasped when she saw a cop on the other side. "Holly, are we saved?" she whispered.

But Olivia knew better and held her close. The cop came in and scanned through the girls, followed by two of the guards from the brothel. "Pick a girl," one guard said to the cop. "A couple of free hours with her and the money we gave you should be enough to keep your mouth shut for a few more weeks."

"Yeah, no problem," he replied, looking over them. Olivia squirmed under his gaze. She knew police corruption existed – hell, she'd experienced it with Harris. But this made her furious down to her bones. He stepped closer to her, his eyes dark with a hunger that made her shiver. Then she realised he wasn't looking at her.

"How old are you, sweetheart?" he asked Justine.

"Don't answer him," Olivia said, pulling her closer. Justine was 14 but she was still small with childlike features – she could easily pass for 12 or 13. "You stay away from her," Olivia spat at the cop.

"Bitch, if I was talking to you, you'd know I was," he snarled at her. He turned and reached for Justine's face, smiling as her breath hitched in fear. "Shh, it's OK, little one. I'm not gonna hurt ya. It feels good, I promise."

Olivia slapped his hand away. "You're sick! Leave her alone!" As a cop herself, it took all her self control not to abuse him for being corrupt, but she knew it would blow her cover. She memorised the name on his badge and couldn't wait to take a shower so she could spill his name over the wiretap. She knew Broyles and the other guys in her department would come down on this guy so hard they'd be handing out popcorn at his execution. As far as she was concerned, this guy already had a reservation for hell.

He was not impressed with her attitude. He backhanded her across the face, hard and fast, gripping her hair as he raised his fist at her. "Don't make me rearrange that pretty face of yours, honey," he spat viciously. "It'd be a damn shame."

One of the guards pulled him back. "Watch it, man. You can't touch those two. They're pure product – someone's already reserved them. Pick someone else."

And so he did. The young woman started crying immediately, sobbing something unintelligible in Russian. Olivia couldn't understand her, but it was obvious that she was begging the cop to leave her alone. Olivia didn't know her name but she remembered that she was Sasha's friend from St Petersburg – they'd come here together. The girl screamed and fought as the guards came to take her away. Some of the other girls even tried pulling her back but all they got was a gun in their faces. The door closed and locked behind them and the chaos was over as soon as it started.

Justine clung to Olivia and started to cry, but apart from that, the entire room was dead quiet. Nobody had to say anything. They all knew what was happening on the other side of that door.

* * *

Peter heard all of this and breathed a huge sigh of relief. He felt like a horrible person for being glad the girl that was picked wasn't Olivia. He wondered if she was scared. He knew he had been.

Charlie and Lincoln found him a little while later and joined him at the wiretap computers. "How are you holding up, man?" Lincoln asked him.

He shrugged. "OK. Have you guys been finding much?"

"Bits and pieces. You know how it goes" said Charlie. "But Livvy just got us the name of that cop so Broyles is going nuts on the phone with NYPD right now." He sighed. "I'm from New York, both my brothers are cops there. I can't believe one of our own is involved in this. It's a shame guys like that give us a bad name – most cops are decent people."

Peter turned to see through the huge glass panels of Broyles office, watching as the fearsome man raged his authority into the phone. "Well at least we'll be able to give that rapist some justice. Most of the guys coming into the brothel are unidentifiable. I don't know how -"

He stopped. He could hear the door to Olivia's room being opened again.

"What?" asked Charlie.

"Something's happening."

Charlie and Lincoln both threw on some headphones and tried to understand what was going on.

_Holly, come here._ The voice was male. They identified it as belonging to Guard Three.

_What do you want? _

_Bitch, I won't ask you twice. _Footsteps. _I know you're new to this life but it's about time we stopped treating you like a princess. Guys, hold her down._

They could hear a struggle. _Get off of me! Stop!_ Peter's stomach clenched. _No, please. I don't want it. _

_Nobody gives a shit about what you want. Stop struggling! It'll only hurt if you move._

"What's happening?" Lincoln asked. "Are they abusing her?"

"In front of the other girls? I don't think so," Charlie replied.

"If I ever get my hands on these guys I'll fucking kill them," Peter muttered, hearing Olivia's protests.

_Please, stop. I don't want it. _

_Relax, wouldja? You'll thank me for this. You'll learn to like it soon enough. _

_Don't, please! Stop!_

"We need to call a UC, they're hurting her."

"Wait, listen closer," Charlie said.

"Charlie! _What_?" Peter exclaimed impatiently.

"They're not abusing her."

"What then?" asked Lincoln.

Charlie sighed, ripped off his headphones. He rubbed his eyes. "He's giving her drugs. Probably heroin."

"How do you know?"

Charlie scoffed. "I'm from Brooklyn. I worked narcotics before I joined the FBI. Trust me, that's what they're doing."

"No," Peter insisted, nauseous. "You're wrong."

"It's common in trafficking rings, Peter," Lincoln explained. "Captors will give their girls drugs to keep them dependent and obedient. Heroin is extremely addictive and your body acclimatises to it quickly, meaning you need more and more of it every few times to get the same high. It's the perfect drug for them to use."

"I want her out of there. I want her out right now."

"Peter, you know neither of us have the authority to make that call. The Pentagon's on this. Unless she gives the signal or we have proof that she's in immediate danger of being killed, we legally can't get her out."

"That's bullshit! How much more is going to happen to her by the time Conrad gets back to America?"

"Peter, I know you're angry about this. So am I, but there's nothing we can do," Charlie reasoned with him. "She's in there, she's toughing it out by choice and we have to respect that. I know Olivia just as well as you do, and we both know that she'll put up with whatever she has to as long as we get Conrad in the end and stop his attack. All we can do is work the leads she gives us and do everything we can for her when she comes home. But we can't take her out – she's our last hope at stopping the attack and saving thousands of lives."

Peter forced a nod, knowing he was right, and collapsed into a chair nearby. "I should never have let her go."

"You know how stubborn Liv is," Lincoln said. "I tried to tell her not to go as well, but once she has her heart set on doing something there's no stopping her."

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Peter, she's gonna be fine," Charlie said, but Peter pushed his hand away.

"Did you not wear a bike helmet as a kid?" he scoffed acerbically, standing up. "You keep saying that everything's OK when nothing about this is OK! You're just like her! Everyone keeps lying to me, telling me it'll work out but we don't know that. We don't know anything. She's in there every day being beaten and threatened and scared, and now she's on drugs. Am I the only one who's noticing that? She's NOT gonna be fine!" he yelled, throwing down his headphones and storming off.

Charlie sighed and followed him down the corridor. "Peter -"

"WHAT?" he shouted, turning back.

Charlie stopped, startled. "Peter, when she comes home she's going to need a lot of help from all of us, especially you. But you underestimate her. She's strong, and resilient. Probably more so than anyone I've ever met."

Peter tried to slow his breathing and unclenched his fists, running a hand over his face. "Charlie, you have no idea how much I love this girl. She's changed my life for the better and one day, when we're older - as insane as it sounds - I want to marry her. But she's going through hell in there. She was almost gang raped the other day. She's being beaten up all the time. She's being held prisoner in a basement with a bunch of rape victims and now she's gonna come home with a drug addiction. That's too much for anyone to take, Charlie – even her. She'll come home, I'm sure. And she might just be strong enough to recover from some of what's happened to her. I love her, and I'm going to do everything I can to help, but Charlie, I'm scared that when she gets back she'll be so traumatised she'll never be the same. I'm scared she won't be the girl I fell in love with anymore. And I can't deal with that. I don't know how," he confessed, walking home to gather his thoughts.

* * *

Olivia lay back on her mattress, eyes wider than they've ever been. She seemed to really feel it after about thirty seconds of being shot up. She was gasping furiously, like her breath was trying to catch up with something faster than herself. Somewhere far off, she could hear Justine struggling as she was being injected, but she didn't care. She just wanted someone to kiss her, touch her. Her fingertips came and traced her lips and she felt the tears she had been crying just a minute earlier. She started rubbing her face and neck and chest in slow motion, marvelling at the way her fingers felt on her skin. Her eyelids fluttered shut. She licked her lips and tried to express the elation she felt, but it just came out in some strangled, breathy moan – long and slow and easy. Her whole body felt relaxed, but her heart was hammering in her chest.

She laughed hysterically for no reason. All she could think was, this is incredible. It feels just like coming, only better. Fuck. Oh my God. Fuck fuck fuck. This is amazing. Oh God, this is awesome. Everything's fucking beautiful.

Then she thought fuck, I'm gonna be sick. She reached for a nearby bucket and threw up a couple of times. She started laughing again. Even that felt fantastic.

She felt drowsy, letting her heavy limbs sink deeper and deeper into her blankets. She was surrounded by light. All the pain, fear, anxiety or whatever had left her. She felt heavy but weightless at the same time, free of all things. For the first time since she'd been in there she wasn't worried about Peter, or scared of being hurt, or in pain from a beating. All she felt was a heady bliss raging its way from her fingertips to her brain to her toes and deeper, all the way down to her bones.

**Please leave a review! It's my 18****th**** birthday and it'd be an awesome present to celebrate the fact that I can drink and vote and all that : )**


	20. Away From Her

**References: Tessa (the Dreamscape), "She's perfect" (Concentrate and Ask Again), "Please let me out of here" (Over There: Part 2), "I'm sorry" (Marionette)**

**Songs: Peter's jazz piano cover of Ain't No Sunshine by Bill Withers**

Peter was in a bar drowning his sorrows like he had been most nights that week. Olivia had been gone for about a month now – on heroin for almost three weeks. The initially constant fear and anger that he'd felt at her being undercover had numbed down to a desperate hopelessness and self-loathing. There was nothing he could do to help her in there. Nothing. And it tore him up.

As he took another shot, he felt a hand tap his shoulder. He expected it to be some old drunk wanting his seat or a leggy young thing asking to buy him a drink, but he was surprised to be met by a familiar face.

"Tessa?"

"Hey, Peter."

He stood and they hugged, just for old time's sake, and he hesitantly gave her a light, friendly kiss on the cheek. He suddenly became aware of how long it had been since he'd touched a woman this way. Tessa smiled up at him awkwardly.

"Have a seat," he said.

"Actually I'm here with friends. Do you want to join us?"

He smiled weakly. "Thanks, Tess, but not tonight."

She sat down next to him. "Are you alright?"

He chuckled sardonically. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Liar," she smirked. "Is it Eddie?"

"No, that's long dealt with."

A look of concern crossed her face. "Peter, what did he do to you?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. I paid off my debt."

"You're kidding. How?"

"How else? I got a fucking job."

She laughed in relief. "Wow. Congratulations. I was sure that guy was gonna kill you if you didn't pay."

"Nah. His blood doesn't run that kind of cold. Besides, if money was all he wanted I'd be a better friend to him alive. His guys would have beaten me to shit, though," he admitted with a dry smile. He looked her over. "You look good, Tess."

She smirked. "You look like shit."

He shrugged and downed the rest of his drink. "You still with Michael?"

"Yeah."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Tessa, _why?_"

She looked down. "He loves me, Peter," she said. "He really does. He just gets out of control sometimes. He doesn't mean it."

"If he really loved you he wouldn't be hurting you. I would have thought that was obvious," he muttered.

"Peter, we've had this argument a hundred times before. Let's not have it again, OK?"

He sighed. "Whatever you want."

"You seeing someone?"

A tiny smile graced his face, but it quickly fell away. "Sort of."

Tessa smiled knowingly. "What's her name?"

"Olivia."

"What's she like?"

"She's perfect," he muttered, calling the bartender over for another drink.

"Then why are you so upset?"

He rubbed his eyes and exhaled. "She's in another city, going through some really shitty stuff right now. I can't help her. I don't know when she's coming home. _If_ she's coming home. It's complicated."

"Wow. That sounds really rough," she said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged. "Like I said, nothing I can't handle."

"Yeah, you totally look like your handling it," she said. "Are you sure you don't want to come and hang out with us? You might even have some fun."

"No, thanks."

"Come on, it's just tonight."

"Nah, I've got knives in my eyes, I'm going home," he muttered, standing up.

She stood with him. "It was really good to see you again, Peter."

"Yeah, you too."

"I'm glad I ran into you. I still think about you a lot, wondering where you are and how you're going."

"I wish I could say the same," he said. "But frankly I've moved on, Tessa."

"It's a real shame we didn't work out, you know. We really could have been something great."

"Yeah, I know. But you left me for Michael, Tess. That blame lies with you. You know that."

"Yeah. I know. I just wish we could go back sometimes."

"There's no going back. I've moved on."

"So you say," she smirked, stepping a little closer. "Come on, Peter. You're girlfriend's gone, my boyfriend's a dickhead. You're desperate, I'm desperate. Let's just hang out tonight, see what happens."

"I don't know that's such a great idea, Tess."

"Just for tonight. There's a part of you that wants to, Peter. I can tell."

It was true. It wasn't that he wanted Tessa. He just wanted something, or someone – hell, _anything_ - that would make him just feel better. He knew it wasn't Olivia standing before him. He knew that. But God, he really wanted it to be her.

He hesitated. Tessa took this as a cue and leaned in to kiss him.

Peter didn't even realise it was happening until her lips had crushed against his. He pushed her away, staggering. "What the fuck, Tessa?"

"Peter, relax. It's not a big deal," she said, tugging on his hand. "It's just one night. She'll never know."

"No," he spat sharply, pulling away from her. "This conversation was a mistake. I'm an idiot for letting it get this far. And you're bitch for doing that. I can't do this. I really love this girl. I can't. I have to go."

"Fine," she muttered as he started walking away. "Your loss."

He stopped and turned back to her. "I'm glad you didn't stay with me, Tessa. You're nothing like her," he spat, walking out the door.

As he walked down the streets, a breaking of thunder ran through the sky and into the ground. He pulled his hood over his head as the rain started to fall, digging his hands into his pockets. There were cabs everywhere but he forced himself to walk in some kind of self-flagellation. He couldn't believe he'd just come so close to betraying Olivia. In his 25-year life, he'd never cheated on a girl, ever. He'd rebounded after a break-up to hurt them or make them jealous, but he'd never actually strayed while he was still with them. He thought it wasn't something he was capable of, but maybe he was wrong. He'd come close tonight – much closer than he would have liked. Tessa was right. There was a part of him that had wanted to sleep with her. Replaying the incident over and over in his head, Peter hated himself.

By the time he walked all the way to the Federal Building, he was drenched and shivering. He stood outside for a while, wondering if he should go in and listen to the wire. Part of him desperately wanted to hear Olivia's voice and feel close to her, wishing that he could apologise. The rest of him was buried deep in shame, wanting to run as far as he could. But then he thought, no, he owed her that guilt.

And he missed her. Terribly. Painfully. Completely. He needed her.

He went inside and found a couple of late night agents on the wire. He gave them a silent nod and chucked on his headphones, immediate guilt piercing him at the sound of Olivia's voice.

* * *

Olivia was high again. Well, she had been high – now she was coming down. After a shot of heroin there was the initial rush, then the relaxed, normal phase she was in right now. Later on she'd be hitting the sick, restless, frustrated stage where all she wanted was another fix. These guys were giving them pretty big doses about once a day, designed to get them hooked hard and fast. The first few times, she'd resisted them, trying to wrestle from their grip as they injected her. But after that she'd gotten a taste for it. Now she found that she looked forward to getting a hit more than she looked forward to getting out, and she thought about smack more than she thought about Rachael or Peter. She knew she was addicted and she hated herself for it.

Still coming down, she rubbed her face sleepily, looking around. Most of the girls were out "working". The only ones left were those who were sick, injured or waiting for sale like her. She looked down at Justine, who was lying beside her, head against her shoulder. She was pale, her lips turning blue. That wasn't good.

Olivia suddenly realised she couldn't feel the girl's soft breaths on her skin anymore. Panicking, she sat up and looked her over, checking for a heartbeat. She found one, wild and irregular, but the girl's breathing was dangerously slow. Olivia started slapping her face gently. "Justine? Honey, wake up. Justine!"

"Holly, what's wrong?" asked one of the other girls, Shannon.

"I think he gave her too much. Oh fuck…"

Shannon was shocked, somehow finding the energy to run to the door of their room and slam her hands against it. "RYAN!" she screamed to the guard who'd shot them up. "Ryan, we need some help!"

They heard hurried footsteps and two guards stormed in. "What the fuck's going on?" Ryan asked.

"It's Justine, she had too much."

The guards ran over, inspecting the girl's eyes, checking over her body. "What the fuck did you give her?" the other guard, Joel, argued.

"Only the starting amount, I swear."

"She's just a kid," said Olivia. "It was too much."

"She's OD-ed," Joel said. "Sit her up, we need to keep her breathing."

"We need to call an ambulance," Olivia insisted.

"Nobody's calling a fucking ambulance. We're not getting caught over this shit. We'll do our best to keep her alive."

"You son of a bitch!" she said, shoving Ryan. "She's 14!"

"Honey, if we cared about kids getting hurt we wouldn't be in this business."

"If she dies you'll lose hundreds of thousands of dollars, don't you want to save her?"

"Tomorrow's promised to no-one, sweetheart. She's lucrative, sure, but don't talk like you girls aren't expendable. There are a million more little girls where she came from," he snarled, slapping Justine's face a little more as Joel loaded up a syringe with some other substance.

"What the hell is that?" Olivia asked.

"This just might bring her down a bit, kick-start her breathing," he said, injecting Justine.

The moments of waiting were tense. Nobody said anything. Nobody even breathed. Suddenly Justine's eyelids started to flutter open. Her gaze was unfocused, like she wasn't sure where she was. She looked like she couldn't lift her head. Olivia reached over and gently grasped her face, but the girl's neck was rubber.

Justine's half-lidded eyes finally settled on Olivia. "Holly?" she murmured groggily.

"Yeah, sweetheart, I'm right here," she replied, smoothing hair out of her face.

Justine smiled soft and lazy, her eyes opening and closing in slow motion. The colour started to come back to her skin, causing Olivia to breathe a sigh of relief. Justine tried lifting her heavy arms, exploring the feel of her own face. She giggled slightly, still intensely euphoric. Her eyes rolled back in her head a bit before her languorous gaze finally reached Ryan. "That was beautiful," she slurred, still coming out of her deep, deep, too-relaxed state. "Can I have some more?"

"Not tonight, baby," Ryan scoffed, picking her up. "I'm taking her to Maria to get checked out. We'll have to keep her awake till she comes down."

Olivia just nodded and fell back against her bed, wanting to cry. She wondered how much longer her life would be like this. More so, she wondered if something like that could happen to her, the thought making her shiver.

* * *

Peter listened to all of this and felt his heart break. As usual, he felt utterly powerless. But more than that, he was haunted by the very idea that, had he made a different choice tonight, he could have been fucking someone else while this was going on. He was determined to be stronger in case he was put in a tempting situation again. Before Olivia left, Peter had promised her that he would stay true to her while she was gone. She was going through hell in that place, and he was terrified he was too weak a man to do her that simple courtesy. She deserved a good man to come home to. At the very least, he owed her that.

He waited until she fell asleep and then trudged home, not knowing what to do with himself. When he got there he only felt more depressed. The apartment was cold and quiet without her. Photos of the two of them together just reminded him of happy days they'd never get back to. He sat at his piano and tried to play, a bittersweet jazzy melody spilling from his fingers. He always loved this song, and this was his slower piano-ballad version. He wasn't a great singer, but he cleared his throat in advance anyway.

_Ain't no sunshine when she's gone.  
It's not warm when she's away.  
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone  
Coz she's always gone too long _

_Anytime she goes away._

Wonder this time where she's gone,  
Wonder if she's gone to stay  
Ain't no sunshine when she's gone  
Coz this house just ain't no home

_Anytime she goes away._His fingers stumbled when he caught sight of Olivia's name carved into the wood of his piano. He clenched his fists in frustration. The music just wouldn't come. He slammed the lid shut and went to bed, wanting nothing more than to have her there with him. When he finally abandoned himself to sleep, he dreamt only of Olivia. On this night he dreamt, as he did most times, about being with her back in Virginia. Back when they were happy, before it all went wrong.

_She was in that dress, standing on the rooftop of his bar. Her birthday. She was sitting on a little brick ledge. He reached out his hand to steady her. You'll fall, he said. No I won't, she said. She pulled him close and kissed him. Their first kiss. He tasted wine and sugar on her lips. He pushed himself closer to her and she smiled against him. _

_Then she gasped. Stumbled. The bricks beneath her fell away. A look of terror crossed her face and she reached for him. He reached for her. But it wasn't enough. She was falling, way out of his reach, until she descended deep into a blackness he couldn't see through. _

He woke drenched in sweat and shook his head to clear it. A phone was ringing. He picked up his mobile off the bedside table and answered it. "Hello?" he said groggily, checking the clock. It was almost 4am.

"Mr Bishop?"

"Yes."

"This is Agent Owen from the FBI. I've been listening to Agent Dunham's wiretap all night."

"What happened? Is she OK?"

There was a brief silence on the other end. "She's very upset. She just sent you a message over the wire. You really should come in and listen to it, sir."

"Of course. I'll be there in 20 minutes," he said, hanging up.

When he got to the Federal Building, almost nobody else was around except for the three agents sitting on the wire. "Owen, what's going on?"

"They're moving the girls. One of the guards just came in and announced that Agent Dunham and some of the other victims are going to be driven to Los Angeles next week. Conrad's going to collect them there."

"Los Angeles? But we thought the attack was going to be in New York or Boston."

"It appears there may have been a change of plans. Either that or the girls are being moved there for the purposes of prostitution and experimentation before Conrad flies out to commence the attack here. ZFT would confuse state law enforcement that way. It appears that whenever Conrad visits America, he likes for he and his top men to get his money's worth out of some of their virgin girls as a reward for their hard work before they use them for experimentation. Recent intel has led us to believe that he's completed the weapon, and this will be the last batch of girls he tests it on before the attack."

"So that's what she's upset about? She's scared?"

"Agent Dunham got defiant with her captors, and they weren't impressed. They're not allowed to physically harm her much, so they've locked her in a closet as punishment. We've got a UC on it to make sure she gets food and water."

Peter ran a hand over his face, cursing under his breath. "And she sent me a message?"

"Yes, sir." Agent Owen went to the computer and located the file. He shared a look with the other two agents. "We'll give you some time alone."

The agents went off and Peter anxiously sat down at one of the computers, putting on his headphones. He thought this was eerie, listening to people's voices all alone in an empty, dimly-lit office at 4am. He pressed 'Play' and cringed as he heard Olivia pounding her fists against the door of the closet, whimpering. _Please._ _Please let me out of here_. She pounded harder. _I know you can hear me! Please let me out of here!_

His heart broke for her, hearing her beg. Olivia Dunham was not a young woman who begged, so he knew she must have been terrified. After all, she was drugged up and held prisoner in a tiny dark closet, on top of everything else going on. He listened to her scratching at the door, heard her scream her frustration when she failed at picking the lock in the dark, and heard her slump to the floor crying. He wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he could do nothing but listen.

_Is anyone out there? Can anybody hear me? If you're listening can you call my boyfriend? Please? His name's Peter Bishop, he works for us. I want him to here this message when he comes over._

"I'm here, sweetheart. I'm listening," he whispered, even though she couldn't hear him.

_Peter? I hope you can hear this._ She started crying. He hated the sound. It stirred something deep within him that caused him to harden with anger and soften with hopelessness at the same time.

_Peter, I'm scared. I hate it here. I hate being hit all the time and I hate being on drugs and I hate not being with you. I want to go home. I know I can't yet because we're so close to Conrad but I want this to end. I miss you. I miss you the guys at work, and Rachael. Can you tell her I miss her? I hope Ella hasn't been born yet. I don't know how long I've been in here. I just lose track of time. We're stuck in this basement with this one little light hanging from the ceiling. It doesn't get turned off, ever. I don't know if it's day or if it's night. _

She stopped and coughed a little, groaning. He wondered if the comedown from the drugs was starting to make her sick.

_I'm not telling you any of this to hurt you. I just want you to understand. Please don't torture yourself for what's happening to me – it was my choice to come here. But I had no idea it would be this bad. I'm so sorry, Peter. I can't imagine how much this is killing you, but I know it is. I should have listened to you. This is all my fault. I should never have come here. I just want to go home and pretend none of this ever happened. I want us to be happy again. I know you might not want me anymore after what's happened to me in here, but please…Please don't leave. I need you, so, so much._

This was just like after Harris, he thought - she was ashamed of herself when she had no need to be. _Peter, I feel…_ She started sobbing. _I feel like I'm gonna die in this place. I'm so scared. I don't want to be here. Peter I wish you were with me. All I want is for you to hold me and tell me it'll be OK. Can you ask Broyles if it's alright for you to come along to the raid when we catch Conrad? I just really want you to be there when they come and get me out. Please, Peter. I need you back. I love you_.

That was it. He listened to her cry herself to sleep and put his head in his hands. All he wanted was to get her back, but he knew they wouldn't be able to for another two weeks at the earliest.

"I'm sorry," he said softly in the dark. It didn't matter that she couldn't hear it for herself yet. It just had to be said, out loud.

**Please Review! Coming up next: Olivia gets taken to meet Conrad…**


	21. The Rescue

**Sorry this chapter is so long but there's a lot happening!**

**References: Walter's mints (In Which We Meet Mr Jones), "step back to planet earth" (Unleashed), "Dad" (The Man From the Other Side), Max (The Abducted), Gavin (The Transformation), "I don't belong here" (The Abducted), "Christmas" (The Transformation), "Don't be" (Jacksonville)**

Olivia woke one morning feverish and surrounded by vomit. She really needed a fix, and her car sickness really didn't help matters. She and the other girls being saved for Conrad were being driven to Los Angeles in the back of an ordinary Coke supply truck. They'd been on the road for over a week now. They literally drove across the entire country, visiting other brothels along the way to pick up other virgins being saved for Conrad and his top men. Most of the people on the truck were teenage girls, though they had brought on a few kids as well. They were constantly watched over by guards with guns, and were given food and water and camping lamps for light. It was stiflingly hot in there, the walls being heavily padded to block out any noise they made – much like the shipping container where she'd investigated the 13 dead girls a few months earlier. They only got fresh air when they'd stop in an alley somewhere and take the girls out to sleep in the basement of one of their brothels for the night. Those places were everywhere.

"Last day," a guard muttered to her, noticing she was awake. "We should be in LA by midnight."

She ignored him, reaching for a bucket to throw up a couple of times. Her body was itching for heroin. She groaned, bracing herself as the cramps in her stomach and legs started to make themselves known. Wiping her mouth, she looked up at the guard expectantly, glancing at the backpack at his feet. "You got any smack?" she asked, her voice tired and strained.

He smirked. "Yeah. Might cost you a blowjob, though."

"Fuck you, then," she muttered, turning away and trying to get back to sleep.

He laughed. "Relax, honey. I know I'm not allowed to do anything to you. Yeah, you can have some." He walked over to her and knelt down, finding some smack in his bag. He looked up to see the anxious desperation in her massive pupils and chuckled. "You got a real taste for it now, huh?"

She glared at him. "I'm not a junkie," she argued defensively. "This wasn't my choice. You did this to me."

"Yeah, they all say that," he teased, tying a tourniquet around her arm. She tried to make herself comfortable and closed her eyes as the needle pierced her skin. She hated herself for wanting it, but she did. The rush hit her hard and fast, surging violently and deliciously through her bloodstream. She laid back and let herself escape. She just wanted to be taken away from where she was – in that crowded truck where she was being trafficked across state borders against her will to be sold to a biochemical terrorist as a sex slave. So she let herself succumb to the drug while she had the chance, because she knew that soon enough, the sickening reality of what her life had become would come crashing home with no mercy.

* * *

Peter was working with Walter in the lab when Lincoln came in. "Hey, Peter. Can we talk?"

"Did something happen on the wire?" he asked anxiously.

"Not really. They're still in the truck. It seems that they'll be taken to Conrad tomorrow."

"So this is it, then? It's nearly over?"

"I hope so, man," Lincoln said sincerely. "Listen, Broyles is really uncertain about having you on the raid team seeing as it's probably going to be a bad one and you don't have any training. But he's agreed to have you wait on site with the medics and we can bring you into the building once we've declared it safe. Sorry, man, but that's the best we can do."

"I'll take what I can get."

"We have to meet with the LA office tonight to go over the raid plan. So you'll be ready to head to the airport at eleven?"

"Sure. Thanks for all your help over the last couple of months, Lincoln. It's really meant a lot to me and I'm sure it would to Olivia as well."

Lincoln smiled wryly. "Don't thank me yet. We've still got to get her out and catch a terrorist. That's the hard part," he said, walking off.

"Yeah," Peter muttered, running a hand over his face. He turned to Walter, who was still avidly working on some experiments. "Walter," he said as he approached.

"Peter! Do you have any mints?"

"No, Walter. I need you to step back to planet earth for a second and focus on something that isn't about you."

"What's the matter, Peter? You look concerned."

"I have to go to LA today. Remember?"

"Los Angeles? What for?"

"Walter, I told you all of this. I have to help the FBI bring Olivia home."

Walter suddenly became very upset as he remembered where Olivia was. He started fidgeting with some candy he had lying around, eating it in a kid of self comfort. "Do you think Agent Dunham will be alright when you find her, Peter? Will I get to see her soon?"

Peter sighed, trying to simplify things for his unstable father. Walter loved Olivia and Peter knew that if he went into details about Olivia's addiction he'd just get upset. "She's not well right now, Walter. First she needs to get better and then you can see her, OK?" Peter put a hand on Walter's shoulder. "It's gonna be alright. We're gonna figure it out, just like we always do. We'll be home before you know it. OK?"

"OK," Walter mumbled, still fidgeting.

Peter smiled faintly. "I have to go now. My phone number's right on the fridge and in your pocket. An agent's going to be here to look after you in a minute. But why don't you take a break for a bit when he gets here? Get some ice cream or go home and sleep for a while. You've been working too hard. I want you to get some rest, Dad."

Peter patted his father's shoulder one last time and started walking away.

"Dad," Walter repeated.

"Huh?"

Walter smiled warmly. "You just called me Dad," he said, going back to his food.

Peter smiled to himself, walking away. "Yeah, I guess I did."

* * *

The guards got them out of the truck and down into the basement of yet another illegal brothel. The woman running the place gave them a room to sleep in, but nobody slept. The younger kids cried all night about wanting to go home. The older girls weren't all that together either, but they tried to comfort the little ones and keep them oblivious to what would happen the next day.

"One, two, three," Olivia heard the little boy lying next to her whisper. He sighed and started again. "One, two three. One, two, three."

"Hey," she whispered to him. "I'm Holly. What's your name?"

"Max."

"How old are you?"

"Nine. Well, almost nine. I'm eight and three quarters. "

Olivia hung her head in dismay. He was the youngest one among them, as far as she knew. Somehow she forced a smile. "What are you doing, Max?"

"Whenever I think there's a monster in my closet, my mum tells me to close your eyes like this." He covered his eyes with his hands. "And then you count to three, and when you open your eyes, the monster's gone."

"Your mum sounds smart. Does it help?"

"It usually does. But one time, it didn't work and the monster took me away. That's how I got here."

"That must have been really scary."

Max just shrugged and looked down. "I thought maybe if I closed my eyes here, I'd be at home when I opened them. But it's not working."

"Well, you know what; I've got another trick that might help you."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Go on, close your eyes." He did as she said. "Now I want you to concentrate on a really happy place, like your house or your school. Can you think of one?"

"Yeah."

"Good boy. Now just relax and count back from a hundred, and before you know it you'll be on your way back home."

The little boy exhaled and started counting under his breath. He stopped somewhere around the 54 mark and she gently tucked the blankets tighter around him, knowing he was asleep. Counting back from 100 hardly ever failed when she was a kid. She wished she could go to sleep just as easily, but she stayed up all night thinking of Peter. She wondered if he'd gotten her message, and if he was in LA right now. She hoped he'd be there when she got out of this place. That was the only thing that made thinking of the next day bearable.

* * *

"Get up," some guy snarled as he grabbed Olivia the next morning. "You older girls come with me. The rest of you kids are staying behind."

"No way," she insisted. "We're not leaving them alone in this place."

"They'll be fine," an older woman at the door said. "I'll be staying with them."

Olivia hesitated but all she got was a gun to her head. "Move, bitch. _Now_."

Her stomach clenched at the sight of the gun. It didn't matter how many times she saw guns at work or in the brothels – having one pressed between her eyes never stopped shaking her to her bones. She nodded quickly and went with him, the others following close behind. He took them back out into the alley to a van. It must have been early – it was still dark. She caught one glimpse of pre-dawn light before she was pushed into the truck. It had been almost two months since she'd seen the sun.

They were driven to a house - just an ordinary house in a normal neighbourhood. Suburbia was the last place anyone would look to find crime like this. The guards left them inside with a few women. Olivia had found that while men did most of the disciplining and transport in the business, women were always the ones running the brothels and watching over the girls. But those women weren't soft – they'd slit your throat just as soon as the men would.

They were all taken down to another basement to stay in. Later on, in the afternoon, the women came back to give them food. "Are you the oldest?" one of them asked Olivia.

"I think so. I'm 19."

"You?" she asked another girl, Ashlee.

"18."

"He'll want you first then," she said.

"Who?"

"Conrad. He likes to start with the older ones. You two, get up. The rest of you stay."

Olivia shivered and Ashlee started weeping, resigned to her fate. "It's gonna be OK," Olivia whispered, but Ashlee just shook her head.

Listening to this, Justine was terrified. "Olivia, don't go," she cried. "I don't want them to hurt you."

"I know, sweetheart, but they'll hurt me if I don't go, too. I'm gonna be OK."

"No! Nothing's gonna be OK," she wept. "They'll hurt all of us. I want to go home."

"Just hang on. I know it's hard but we all have to be strong for each other. I'm going to be fine. You just look after yourself."

She gave Justine one last hug and painfully let go of the crying girl who had depended on her like a little sister for the last couple of months. A woman took her and Ashlee to a bedroom and opened up a closet, asking for their sizes. She brought out clothes and underwear for them. "Go and try these on and tell me if they fit."

Olivia looked through the raunchy underwear and tiny black dress she'd been given. "No way," she protested. "I'm not wearing this."

"You'll do exactly as I say," the woman said seriously. "Or I'll give you to those three men who brought you here in the van instead of Conrad."

Olivia glared at her before nodding reluctantly, going to the en suite to change. She looked over herself in the mirror. She hadn't seen her own reflection in weeks. She looked tired, wrecked. She'd lost weight. Her pupils were huge. Still-fading bruises marred her pale skin and track marks dotted her arms. She barely recognised herself. She wanted to cry, but she forced herself to keep it together. She couldn't afford to fall apart. Not today.

She came back out to meet the woman in her new clothes. She looked Olivia over. "Good," she said. "Now go and shower. Shave, wash your hair, brush your teeth, all that. You'll feel better."

Olivia scoffed. Somehow she was convinced this woman didn't care at all about how she felt. Nonetheless, it did calm her down a bit. She also took advantage of the time alone to send a message over the wire.

* * *

Meanwhile, Peter, Charlie and Lincoln were on the road with the raid teams, setting up discrete waiting points in the locations of various ZFT brothels across the country. The FBI aimed to have teams take them all down at the same time so they wouldn't be able to warn each other, but they couldn't start until Olivia located Conrad. Peter was in the backseat, headphones plugged into his laptop so he could listen to the wiretap. "Guys, she says she wants us to get the kids out. They're back in the building from this morning."

"We've got agents in the area to raid that building when the time comes, but they might have to hang tight a few more hours."

"Lincoln, they're little kids."

"I don't like it anymore than you do, but if we raid one brothel now all the others are gonna panic and get rid of any evidence, including the people they kidnapped. We'd risk the lives of every victim in those places."

Peter sighed and nodded. "Hang in there, Livia," he whispered to himself.

* * *

Olivia and Ashlee looked like they were going out clubbing or something – wearing tiny dresses and insanely high heels. The older women did their hair and make-up specifically to cover any bruises as well as make them look good. "Don't cry," one of the women scolded them. "You'll make the mascara run."

Ashlee took Olivia's hand and squeezed hard. Olivia squeezed back. When they were done they were taken back out into the night, the van having come back to pick them up. Ashlee grasped the little golden cross around her neck and started praying desperately under her breath as Olivia had known her to every night before they went to sleep. Olivia just held her hand, not knowing what else to do.

The van stopped suddenly and the girls found themselves being dragged out into yet another back alleyway. They heard loud music and Olivia assumed they were behind a club of some kind. A man met them at the bottom of the fire escape stairs. "You two, come with me," he said in a European accent, leading them into the club.

* * *

"Damn it," one of the FBI tech guys breathed, exasperated.

"What?" asked Peter anxiously.

"The music's too loud, I can't hear anything."

"Try extracting the music input from the recording so we just hear voices."

"I'm trying, but there are too many others talking, too many inputs. I can't drain them all out. We're just going to have to wait till she goes somewhere less crowded."

"Shit," Peter muttered, getting tense. Already, this was spinning too far out of control for his liking.

The man led them to a private area with couches on the second level of the club. "Would you like a drink?"

Both girls shook their heads vehemently, but he ordered a bottle of champagne anyway. "Are you Conrad?" Ashlee asked him timidly.

"Me?" he chuckled. "No, my name is Gavin. Conrad is on his way."

A girl working at the club brought them the champagne and Olivia immediately wondered if she was trafficked, too. "Drink this," Gavin said, pouring them each a glass. They hesitated. "You girls need to relax. It's perfectly harmless, I promise," he said, taking a sip of his own. Olivia reluctantly downed her glass. Gavin smiled. "Good girl," he said, tipping her face towards his and kissing her. Olivia gasped softly in surprise and pulled away, but he grabbed her painfully and forced his tongue down her throat. Olivia felt nauseous but forced herself to kiss him back, afraid of what he'd do to her if he didn't. She felt odd and guilty kissing someone other than Peter, but she just wanted to get this over with. He pulled away and smirked, looking her over. "It's a real shame I won't get to you first."

"I thought only Conrad was allowed to do anything with us," Olivia said.

"I'm a friend of his. He lets me take a few liberties. It'll be my turn to have you after he does."

"Who is he? Conrad?" Ashlee asked.

"He's a brilliant man," he replied, placing his hand on her thigh and letting his fingers trace the skin there. "An exceptional scientist. He's going to save the world one day. You're lucky to have him as your first," he said, making her squirm. "After that, you get given to the rest of us, and then you get to help Conrad with his work."

Ashlee was confused by that, but Olivia knew he was saying that they'd be used for an experiment after Conrad's henchmen were bored of gang raping them. She shivered at the thought, but hoped that her co-workers would get her out in time. Gavin started to ask questions about them and deduced that Olivia was the older of the two. His phone rang and he had a quick conversation in French before hanging up.

"Conrad would like to see you," he said to Olivia.

"When?"

"Now," he said, grabbing her arm. "Keep the other one here," he said to a guard about Ashlee. "But no fucking with her, got it?"

The guard nodded and Gavin took Olivia up some stairs to a private room overlooking the club floor. "Please don't do this," she begged him on the way, shouting over the music that pumped throughout the entire building. "Please, I don't belong here."

"Stop fucking complaining," he spat, digging a gun into her side. "This is your life now."

He sat her down on the edge of a king sized bed, pulling a tourniquet out of his pocket and tying it around her arm. "Don't, Gavin," she pleaded as he tapped her skin, preparing the needle. "Please, stop."

He ignored her and pushed the plunger down, sending drugs tumbling through her skin and into her bloodstream. She felt herself relax, but he'd clearly given her more than usual. She fell back against the bed and felt her limbs get heavier, her brain starting to cloud over, slipping into sleep.

"She's ready, Conrad," he heard Gavin call down the hall. She heard footsteps coming closer and closer and fought to stay awake.

* * *

"What the hell is going on in there?" Broyles furiously asked the tech guys. Peter was with them, trying to isolate the pertinent sounds on Olivia's wiretap.

"We've got the music and most of the crowd sound out of the feed," a tech guy said. "But we're not hearing voices anymore – nobody's talking. All we're getting is this occasional rusting sound. We can't tell what's going on."

"We have to get her out," Peter insisted.

"We can't do that," Broyles said. "If we move too soon they'll panic and we'll never get Conrad or the girls. We have to wait for her to identify him."

Peter put his head in his hands. He had a bad feeling about this. "Wait!" he said, holding his headphones. "Something's happening."

* * *

When Olivia came to, there was a man on top of her. It had to be Conrad. Her dress was gone by that point, but thankfully she was still wearing what little she had underneath it. Conrad was shirtless and was now unbuttoning his pants. Olivia tried to fight, but her limbs felt heavy. She somehow found the energy to thrash under him and scratch his face, but she received a couple of punches in hers for doing so. Her nose was bleeding. She spluttered and kept fighting, mumbling something about Christmas – that was her signal word for Conrad. He looked down at her, puzzled, but assumed it was the drugs talking and reached to roughly paw at her breasts. "Get off me," she whimpered, her voice not the yell she wanted it to be. "Stop! Don't touch me!"

He covered her mouth with his hand and bit down hard on her left breast, just above the edge of her bra. She cried out and kept fighting, biting his hand. "Fucking bitch," he swore in a heavy French accent, hitting her across the face again and again. She felt the pressure of the blows against her face but the pain was dull – heroin made it easier not to feel pain. It felt like this was going on for hours to her, though she knew it was only a moment.

In a split second he was ripped from her body. It all happened too fast for her drugged-up mind to perceive. Someone reached for her and she screamed, struggling to get away. "NO! Don't touch me!"

"Olivia, it's OK!" Lincoln leaned over her, tapping her face to get her hazy gaze focused on him. "Liv? Liv, can you hear me?"

"Linc…?" she mumbled.

"Oh thank God. Somebody get Bishop up here now!"

She glanced around and saw that a raid team had come through the whole building and were now violently subduing Conrad, throwing in a couple of extra punches for good measure. She tried to sit up but found that she could barely move. Charlie helped her sit and she collapsed against him for support.

She thought this moment, being back with her friends, would be amazing and overwhelming, but it wasn't. She was too out of it to notice much of what was happening, and they looked furious that she was hurt. Her head was hung, and a few droplets of blood fell and hit her bare legs. She lifted a heavy hand to touch her face, and when she pulled it away, it was bright red with blood. "I didn't even feel that," she mumbled. She looked over herself and saw bruises and scratches all over her, none of which she could feel. Tears came to her eyes. "What happened to me?"

"It's OK, Livvy. We're getting you out of here," Charlie assured her, giving her tissues for her bleeding nose.

Moments later, Peter came sprinting into the room to find a half-naked, brutalised and drugged-up Olivia sitting on the bed held up by her two friends. His heart broke at the sight, but he couldn't help but feel immense joy. He knelt before her and took her face gently in his hands. "Oh my god. Livi? Can you hear me?"

It took a while for her bleary eyes to settle on him. "Peter…?"

"Yeah, sweetheart, it's me."

A weak smile came over her face. "You came."

"Of course I came," he said, wiping away her tears.

He wrapped his arms around her and she clung to him with what little energy she had in her. He could feel her tears soaking through his shirt. "Don't let go," she whimpered. "Please. I missed you too much."

"I missed you too, Olivia. Shh…It's OK. I've got you."

"The kids…"

"They're fine. The FBI did simultaneous raids on all the ZFT brothels and labs we knew of in the country. We didn't know where half those brothels were until you were taken to them. You saved their lives, Livia."

She nodded and whimpered, the pain in her body starting to register. "Please just take me away from here," she cried into his chest. "I want to go home."

"I know, sweetheart, but we have to go to the hospital first, OK?"

She nodded sleepily, collapsing against him as he held her. He felt intense relief, finally having her in his arms again. He brushed some hair out of her face, kissing her forehead and wrapping a blanket around her to afford her some modesty – she was dressed only in a revealing bra and underwear, her hair done and her face covered in blood and make-up. She curled against his chest as he put his arms around her small frame and picked her up. He was shocked to feel how light she was as he carried her downstairs to the medics.

She groaned in his arms as he laid her on the bed in the ambulance and the medics checked her vitals. She kept looking herself over, frantically feeling her body to see where it was hurt. Peter held her hand and stroked her hair, trying to calm her. She noticed a sharp pain between her legs and saw that a little blood had soaked through her underwear to lightly smear her inner thighs.

She started sobbing. "Oh my God."

One of the medics also noticed the bleeding, as well as the bite mark on her chest and other scratches and bruises. "Agent Dunham, I'm sorry to ask, but were you raped?" she asked gently.

Olivia's forehead was creased in frustration. "I don't know..." she sobbed. "I was unconscious. I don't remember. Oh my God."

"We'll run a kit when we get to the hospital," the medic said. "There's a chance you were sexually abused and not raped, it may just be your period or it may be a completely separate injury. We'll have to just wait and see."

Olivia was distraught. "No, no, no…Oh my God, please, no…"

Peter just squeezed her hand tighter and wiped away her tears. "It's gonna be OK," he choked, tears in his own eyes. "I don't care what happened – I love you just the same, OK? Livia, you have to know that. I'm not going anywhere."

"Peter, I'm so scared," she whispered, unable to look at him as she wept.

"Don't be," he said sincerely. "I'll be here, no matter what." Brushing away some of her hair, he kissed her forehead and pulled back again. She somehow brought herself to look up and saw him staring down at her – his jaw locked and his eyes a fiery mixture of love and rage and despair. But what was more shocking to her was the glow around him, the way his body seemed to shine in the garish light of the ambulance.

He glimmered.

She thought it was strange but brushed it off. It was probably just the drugs.

**Please review! Olivia's home!**

**Also, this week the Australian Federal Police (kind of like our version of the FBI) just helped crack an international paedophile ring, arrested 180 paedophiles and rescued 230 children from sexual slavery. Congrats AFP, you guys rock and I really hope i get to work for you one day after this criminology degree! Thank God there are people out there working hard to make crimes like this stop around the world : )**


	22. Caterwaul

**References: "Oh Peter" *collapse* (The Transformation), "I've never met anyone who can do the things that you do" (Jacksonville), "He looked into her eyes and he knew" (Marionette)**

The FBI managed to save hundreds of kidnapped women and children from brothels and labs all across the country that night, as well arrest the ZFT members running them. It was all over the news – the largest single-case rescue of trafficking victims in history. They'd raided all the labs for evidence and seized Conrad's weapon. They learned that the attack had been scheduled for three weeks time at a major event in Times Square, sure to kill hundreds of thousands in the initial dispersal and even more with secondary contact. All the victims they rescued had been sent straight to hospital like Olivia for treatment, testing for diseases, drug withdrawal and trauma therapy. It was going to be a long couple of weeks for the agents trying to locate their families, but everyone was in good spirits since the raids were so successful.

That is, everyone except Olivia's friends. Broyles, Lincoln, and Peter were in the waiting area of a large LA hospital while all the other agents there were frantically trying to find the families of their victims or sort out asylum for those that wanted to stay in America. Broyles had put the three guys on paid leave in the wake of the case because of the hard work and their ties to Olivia. It had been a rough couple of months for all of them – there was no doubt about that. Olivia was in a trauma room being treated and examined. She had decided she didn't want anyone with her, so they were waiting outside in silence while the world seemed to be in chaos around them.

"Hey," Charlie said, coming over. "Any news?"

"Not yet," Peter muttered, rubbing his tired eyes.

"I just met Justine's parents," he said. "I called them last night to let them know we got her out. They just flew in. You should have seen the three of them together, all crying and that. They were so happy."

"You saw that case through start to finish, Francis. Congratulations," Broyles said.

"Thank you, sir."

"What's that in your hand?" Lincoln asked.

Charlie showed him a bunch of Chinese coins and turtle figurines tied on red ribbons. "Her father insisted I take them as a thank-you. Apparently they'll bring me good fortune and long life or something. They're Chinese, so it's tradition I guess. But they know about Olivia being a UC now, so they want to thank her too when she's better."

A doctor came out to greet them and all four of them stood. She briefed them on Olivia's injuries from her beatings over the last couple of months, glad to report that the bruising would heal in time and there was no major damage like broken bones. They also removed the wiretap/GPS microchip from her body. "I'm aware that she requested a rape kit," Broyles said. "Has she decided whether she is comfortable with us knowing the results? Her case records will be confidential."

"She is comfortable with the four of you hearing it from me – no one else. First of all, we are fairly confident that a rape did not take place – though that was definitely her attacker's intention. I'm afraid to say that during the examination we discovered some minor trauma and bleeding – most likely the result of manual sexual abuse. She was unconscious at the time so she doesn't remember the incident, which I suppose is a small mercy. But we've collected some evidence and hopefully that'll be enough to get this guy on attempted rape and assault of a federal agent, on top of his other charges." Broyles just nodded, feeling disappointed in himself for letting it happen. Charlie put his head in his hands and looked like he could cry. Lincoln looked like he could hit something. Peter was shaking with rage and despair but forced himself to calm down – he needed to be strong for Olivia.

"Can I see her?" Peter asked, a sick desperation in his voice.

"What is your name, sir?"

"Peter Bishop. I'm her boyfriend."

"Yes, she requested to see you," she said. "But there's something I need to discuss with you in private first."

"Go ahead," he said as the others stepped away.

"As you are already aware, Agent Dunham was received regularly large doses of heroin from her captors. Heroin is an extremely addictive substance – it's the kind of drug where you're either an addict or you've never tried it. After almost two months of increasing doses, her body has become quite accustomed to the drug and she will have to go through a painful withdrawal to get it out of her system. I've talked to Olivia about her options. She can go on programs like methadone treatment but those carry their own risks. She's decided a straight detox is the way to go. Because of the emotional stress, we only allow one person to stay with a patient while they go through withdrawal, and she has asked for you, Mr Bishop. Would you be interested in supporting her for the duration of the detox?"

"Of course. Anything she needs."

"I'm not going to lie. It's a brutal process, very harrowing on the body," she explained. "The severity of withdrawal is hard to predict – it depends on the purity of the substance, the dosage, the frequency of doses, the fact that it was injected rather than snorted, things like that. It can take an addict over a week to detox, but because she was only using for a couple of months, I believe this could take her two or three more days."

"Two or three _days_?"

"I'm afraid so. She may experience many physiological and psychological side effects as her body adjusts to coming off the drug - everything from muscle spasms and cramps to delirium and insomnia. It's very long and very painful. I'm not saying this to scare you, but you should be prepared for what you're about to see. Olivia will be in a lot of pain - she'll cry and scream and beg for a fix but you cannot bend and you cannot break. I know this is hard, but you need to be strong for her. I or another doctor will be there the whole time treating her and answering your questions if need be. I can give her a few medications that won't compromise her withdrawal but I'm afraid there's not much I can do to ease her pain. We'd like to start as soon as possible, Mr Bishop."

Peter nodded and gulped. "OK," he said, trying to grapple with all of this. He went and thanked the others for their support and walked to Olivia's room, where he found her curled up in a ball on her bed. Her face was now devoid of make-up, allowing the bruising to show. His heart broke seeing her hurt, but it didn't make him love her any less. "Hey," he said, hesitantly sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over and kissing her forehead. "How are you feeling?"

She shrugged, smiling weakly. "OK, I guess. It's good to finally be out of that place. I'm so glad you're here."

"Livia," he said softly, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. "I'm so sorry about what has happened to you the last couple of months. I shouldn't have let you go. I mean, I know it did a lot of good – stopping the attack and rescuing all those women and everything, but I wish it didn't have to cost you what it did. We should never have let it get that far. Especially with what happened last night."

She looked away for a moment. "I'm fine," she said, glancing back to him. "I mean, I don't even remember what Conrad did to me, so it's like it never actually happened."

"But it _did_ happen, Livia," he said. "It happened and that's not OK – we can't just brush it off. And it wasn't your fault. I want you to know that I love you always, and I'm so glad I have you back, no matter what happened."

She nodded, tears in her eyes. "I love you too," she said weakly, pulling him in for a slow, feather-light kiss that still managed to speak volumes between them even in its simplicity. He pulled her close into a gentle hug, not wanting to press on her bruises too hard.

"I missed you so much," he choked, tears coming to his eyes. "I listened to the wire every day. I was there when you sent me that message at 4am. I heard everything. Lincoln and Charlie and I were barely breathing with you gone. I was so scared, Livia. I almost thought I'd never get to hold you like this again."

"Me too," she whimpered against his shoulder, also crying. "I missed you, and I was scared. I thought I was gonna die in there, Peter."

"I know. I know."

He pulled back and cupped her face, wiping away a tear with his thumb. "Liv, are you sure about this withdrawal? It's going to hurt - probably like nothing you've ever felt before. You can go on substitute drugs, methadone and all that."

"I know, Peter. But I could be on those programs for months. I'll still be an addict; I just won't be addicted to heroin. I don't want that. I just want to be me again. I want this shit out of my body. I want to go home."

"I know, sweetheart. We'll get you home soon, I promise."

The kept talking and comforting each other for a while, but eventually the doctor from earlier came back in. "OK, Olivia, are you ready to begin your withdrawal treatment?" Olivia nodded silently, squeezing Peter's hand. He sat further up on her bed so he was beside her, his arm around her shoulders. "This is going to be a long and hard process, but this should help bring the heroin out of your system," the doctor explained, holding out a syringe full of another substance.

Peter felt Olivia tremble in his arms. "No," she whispered. "No more needles. Please."

"Livia, I know this is scary, but it's going to help you," Peter said.

She shook her head, burying her face in his shoulder. "I can't."

"Yes, you can. You've already survived hell and made it through. I know you can do this. And I'll be right here the whole time, OK? You need this to help you get better. Please, sweetheart."

Olivia sighed and braced herself, holding out her arm. Peter internally cringed at the sight of the track marks that dotted her pale skin. She winced as she needle went in and he kissed her forehead. "Shhh, sweetheart," he whispered. "We're gonna get through this."

* * *

**4 hours in:**

Olivia was shivering in her bed, covers pulled up to her chest. "Livia, how are you feeling?" he asked her.

"I'm c-cold," she replied, her teeth chattering.

He looked her over, confused. "Livia, you can't be cold. Your face is red and you're sweating like crazy. You're burning up."

The doctor checked her over quickly, seeing that while she was sweating, she had goose bumps on her skin. "This is completely normal," she explained. "Her Central Nervous System is in shock. Her body's confusing temperatures, reflexes, responses to stimuli…There's nothing more we can do but wait it out."

Peter nodded, thinking back to her body's reactions so far. Her nose had started running heaps and her eyes were watering even when she wasn't crying. She'd start yawning and sneezing like crazy for no reason. It didn't make any sense.

Five minutes later, Olivia was hot, sweltering in the tiny room. She went back and forth between hot and cold like that for hours, and there was nothing Peter could do.

**

* * *

**

**18 hours in:**

Olivia was freaking out. The doctor explained that withdrawal could induce paranoia, insomnia and delirium that could lead a patient to experience extreme emotional anxiety, and this was no exception. Olivia was crying, panicking. Her eyes were flitting around the room and she was taking giant gulps of air. She clearly had no idea where she was, but wherever she thought she was obviously scared her. "Please let me out of here," she begged.

"Olivia, you're doing so well," the doctor started.

"No, please, I don't belong here. I have to get out of here," she pleaded frantically.

Peter reached for her gently. "Livia -"

"No! Let me go!"

"Livia, calm down. It's OK."

"No, no -"

"Livia, you're in a hospital."

"No, I don't belong here."

"Livia, stop!" he pleaded, grasping her face gently in his hands. "Look at me."

"Don't touch me!" she cried, struggling.

"Livia! Look at my face. It's just me. You're safe, I promise you."

She looked confused, visibly shaken. "No, you're lying to me -"

"Look around. You're not in a truck or a basement with those other girls any more. See? You're safe, sweetheart," he said desperately, trying to get her to see.

It took a while for it to register, for her overwhelmed brain to realise where she actually was. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "Peter?"

"Yeah, sweetheart. It's just me," he said softly, stroking her cheek.

Her breath started to slow and even out. "Oh Peter," she breathed, collapsing into the warmth of his chest and clinging to him desperately.

He kissed her hair. "I've got you, sweetheart. They can't hurt you anymore."

**

* * *

**

**37 hours in: **

Peter held back Olivia's hair as she kept throwing up. For almost a whole day she hadn't been able to keep anything down. She finally stopped for a moment, panting to catch her breath. Peter rubbed soothing circles on her back and kissed her shoulder. "Livia, try and eat something. Or drink, at least," he said as the doctor increased her drip to keep her fluids up.

"I can't. Oh God…" she muttered, throwing up nothing but water until she was just dry heaving. Her whole body was shaking. "I can't," she whimpered again, starting to cry. "I can't keep doing this. I want to stop."

"Olivia, we're about halfway through. You're doing so well but you need to hang on just a little longer," the doctor said sympathetically.

"No," she cried softly, rocking herself. "I can't. I want to start using again. Just a little bit. _Please_."

"Sweetheart," he whispered, cradling her in his arms. "You're going to make it through this. I know it's hard and it's scary but you need to get better. Please just hang on for me. Just a little longer."

Olivia couldn't bring herself to argue. She clung to his body and cried, searching for any kind of comfort. It was only going to get worse from here.

**

* * *

**

**48 hours in:**

They'd been at this for two straight days. Olivia hadn't been able to sleep the whole time because of the insomnia and Peter had tried to keep himself awake, even though the doctor had offered him breaks repeatedly. He'd refused each time. He'd catch an hour or two of sleep in a chair if he had to, but there was no way he was letting Olivia go through this alone. He woke from a restless sleep to find the doctor checking over her.

"Olivia, you're bleeding again. You need to stop scratching yourself," the doctor said firmly.

"I can't stop. My blood's all itchy."

"That's not uncommon," she replied. "But I'll have to put bandages on your hands."

"No, please, I have to scratch them out."

"Scratch what out?" Peter asked groggily, coming over to sit on her bed.

"The ants. They're making my blood itchy. I can feel them crawling – they're in my skin," she said desperately, furiously scratching at her raw skin.

Peter grabbed her hands despite her protests. "No more, Olivia," he said seriously. He turned to the doctor. "Is this normal?"

"It's a common side effect," she replied, wrapping Olivia's hands in gauze and tape so she couldn't get it off and start scratching again.

**

* * *

**

**55 hours in:**

The pain started to get really bad. Olivia was having muscle spasms, deep aches in her whole body, excruciating cramps in her legs and stomach, and the vomiting still hadn't stopped. She was curled in a ball on her side, the blankets clenched tight in her fists. Her whole body was writhing in agony. Her groans became sobs which became muffled screams against the blankets. She'd bite down on them, trying to relieve the pain.

Peter had no idea what to do, so he just lay beside her and stroked her hair, trying to calm her. "Shh, sweetheart," he'd say. "It'll be OK. We just need to get through this part, and then everything will be OK. I'm so sorry."

Olivia sobbed and caught her breath to speak. "I can't keep going. It's too much. I need something."

"Olivia, if I gave you certain medications like painkillers they would compromise the effectiveness of your withdrawal. You'd just be switching from one addiction to another. I'm giving you everything I can," the doctor explained sympathetically. "This should be as bad as it gets – you seem to be at the climax of the detox. It's going to get easier after this."

"I don't care," she sobbed. "I just need it too much. _Please._"

"Livia, sweetheart, you have to hold on."

"I can't!"

"You have to."

"Peter, it hurts," she sobbed. "Please, Doctor, just give me some morphine, anything -"

"Livia, the more she gives you, the longer this will take. You're almost there, this is the hardest part. Once you get through this the rest will be easier."

"Peter, please!" she cried, clinging to him. "If you really love me -"

"I _do_, Livia. I know you can't see it right now but we're doing this to help."

"I'll do anything you want. _Anything_. Please, Peter, I can't…"

"Livia, I'm sorry, but you can't convince us. We're doing this to make you better, sweetheart."

Exhausted, she buried her face in his chest as he wrapped his arms gently around her. "Peter, help me," she cried softly.

The way she said it broke his heart a thousand times over. Tears came to his eyes at the hopelessness he felt. "I'm trying, Livia," he choked, kissing her hair. "But I don't know how. I'm so sorry."

**

* * *

**

**63 hours in:**

Olivia's pains had finally started to weaken, though they were still too severe to afford her any rest or sleep. Peter lay on her bed with her, washing her face of sweat and tears with a wet cloth. She was trembling, crying softly from pain and exhaustion. "Peter, I can't do this," she whispered, her voice raw from days of crying.

"Yes, you can. I know you can. And you will. I've never met anyone who can do the things that you do," he said, brushing some sweaty hair off her forehead. "Shh, Liv. Don't cry. You're gonna be OK. It's hard, but it's like a bridge, and once you cross it, everything will be alright again."

She sniffled, taking a deep breath. "What's it like? On the other side of the bridge?"

"You won't be sick anymore," he started. "You'll be free to go outside again, sleep in your own bed, see your friends. Your beautiful niece Ella will be born in a month or so. She'll be stunning and adorable, just like you and your sister. You'll be smitten as soon as you see her, I'm sure. And when she gets a little older, you two will have so much fun together," he chuckled. "I bet you'll be the cool aunt – you know, the one who lets her eat all the candy she wants and stay up way past her bedtime. You'll be up to all sorts of mischief together, I can tell."

"And us?"

"We'll be happy - like we were in the beginning. I promise."

A soft whimper escaped her. "Peter…I want to go home."

"I know, sweetheart. Soon. But first you need to get better."

She nodded, still weeping. "It's cold again," she muttered.

He reached down to where she'd kicked off the blankets during her sweats, pulling them up over her body and rubbing her back. He kissed her forehead. "It's almost over, sweetheart. We're almost there."

**

* * *

**

**72 hours in:**

They'd made it. It was done. Three full days of unbearable pain and sickness, and now it was over. Olivia was better, the heroin mostly gone from her system. She'd even managed to get a bit of sleep. But something was wrong.

She wasn't speaking. She was barely responding to people and her eyes were glassy. The psychologist came to visit again and explained to Peter that she was in shock from the trauma of everything she'd experienced, and was trying to cut herself off as a coping mechanism. She said that in time Olivia would come around as long as everyone supported her but didn't push her. They just had to be patient.

But Peter was convinced he'd lost her for good. He looked into her eyes and he knew – he _knew_ – that it wasn't her. Not anymore.


	23. See the Sun

**References: Peter's summer speech (There's More Than One of Everything), fireflies (Firefly), **

**Songs: I Miss You by Blink 182 and The Scientist by Coldplay **

Olivia was broken. Peter was sure of it. He'd never seen her like this – not after Harris, or Lucas, or John, or her mum. She'd had points where she was wrecked (despite her stubborn denying of it), but she'd never been like this. She hadn't said a word since she woke up that third morning in the hospital in LA, when the full scale of her trauma had finally crashed down on her without mercy. And now she was in shock, cutting herself off to cope. She would barely react to anyone who was trying to communicate with her, always pushing them away. It seemed like she was off somewhere else, or that only the shell of her had survived the last two months of suffering.

Broyles had put her on paid leave until further notice, along with Peter, Charlie and Lincoln. Peter bought Olivia some clothes to wear and the doctors released her from the hospital. She'd been in there for almost a week healing up, but the psychologists assured Peter and the others that her emotional wounds would too heal in time. They explained that while Olivia might seem emotionless or unfeeling, she was in fact grappling with extreme pain on the inside – eventually it would reach a point where she had to let it out. Peter and the others were advised not to push her or force her into things – rather, give her space to come to terms with what had happened while showing their support for her.

Broyles had arranged for one of the FBI's private jets to take Peter, Olivia, Charlie and Lincoln back to Boston that night. It was beautiful and spacious – set up with couches and big seats rather than the usual rows. At least it gave Olivia room to lie down and sleep. It seemed that all she did was sleep these days. Fair enough, too – she'd gone without rest for three straight days while she was coming off heroin. But before he would let her sleep, Peter had to make sure she ate something. She'd lost so much weight on heroin, and he was pretty sure her captors hadn't made a huge effort to feed her well, regardless.

"Come on, Livi, please eat something," he pressed softly, stroking her hair as he sat next to her on the couch. She flinched a little and he quickly withdrew his hand, scolding himself. He suddenly remembered that since she'd snapped from the trauma she didn't like it when he touched her hair. Those guys in the brothel used to drag her by her hair. He held up his hands in apology. "I'm sorry, Livi. I didn't mean it, OK? Please have some food."

Her eyes fell away from him. She just sat cross-legged, looking down at her feet and toying absentmindedly with her shoelaces.

He gently used a single finger on her cheek to tip her face towards his, forcing her to look at him. "Please, sweetheart," he urged her, desperation edging into his voice. "I know you're tired but you need to eat just a little bit."

She looked at him, but it was as if she didn't know him. No personal recognition crossed her face. She didn't acknowledge his plea with a nod or anything else. She just let her eyes flick back down to her shoes. But after a moment, she looked back to him hesitantly, shyly taking a plate of food from his hands. She toyed with her fork for a bit before finally starting to feed herself in tiny mouthfuls.

Peter sighed in relief. "That's my girl," he murmured, forcing a small smile. She made it about half way through her food when she abandoned her plate to a nearby table. Peter worried she hadn't had enough, but he knew it was best not to press the issue. He let her lie down and rest, tucking a blanket around her and placing a soft, affectionate kiss on her forehead. He stayed with her until her breathing evened into unmistakable sleeping patterns before tucking some hair behind her ear and walking back up to the other end of the plane to Charlie and Lincoln.

"How's she going?" Lincoln asked.

Peter just shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "A little better. She's actually starting to listen to me, rather than pushing me away all the time. But she's still not talking."

"She'll get there," Charlie said reassuringly. "We just have to give her time. It must have been awful, what she went through. It was awful for us, and we were just listening to it. Livvy had it a thousand times worse. But she's a tough one. She'll get through this."

"Have you heard anything from Broyles?" Peter asked.

"Yeah. Conrad and the other major terrorists we caught still aren't talking, so they're being shipped somewhere overseas for questioning."

"Why?"

"They can do what they want with them over there," Lincoln explained. "They're not protected by the Bill of Rights off American soil, so the government has prisons overseas where they can torture terrorists for information. It's called Extraordinary Rendition. You know, like Guantanamo Bay and stuff."

Peter scoffed. "And we're working for a government that practices shit like this?"

"Hey, I don't agree with it," Lincoln defended himself. "But we've all seen recently our government achieves a lot of good too, some of it resulting directly from information we gain in those practises. Maybe it's a necessary evil. I don't know. Regardless of whether or not it's right, I'm certain that it's no less than Conrad deserves."

Peter sighed and hung his head. "He deserves worse," he muttered. "But it's not what Liv would have wanted. She'd want a chance to face him. She'd want him sentenced fairly, with a judge and a jury in a fucking democracy - the right way. Because we're not supposed to be the terrorists. We're supposed to be better than they are. That's the whole fucking point." He rubbed his eyes, exhausted.

"You should try and get some rest, too, Peter," Lincoln said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We've still got another four hours before we get to Boston. Don't worry. We'll watch her."

Peter looked hesitantly back to Olivia, but decided that it was probably best. Sighing, he got up and walked back towards her, kissing her sleeping form one last time before finding a couch opposite her to rest on. He put his headphones on and played some music to help him relax.

_Where are you?_

_And I'm so sorry  
I cannot sleep I cannot dream tonight_

_I need somebody and always  
This sick strange darkness  
Comes creeping on so haunting every time_

He didn't realise how exhausted he was until he lay down, but once he did, he couldn't stop himself from drifting off to sleep.

_Will you come home and stop this pain tonight  
Stop this pain tonight_

_Don't waste your time on me you're already  
The voice inside my head (I miss you, I miss you)  
Don't waste your time on me you're already  
The voice inside my head (I miss you, I miss you)_

It was late when they arrived back in Boston. Peter held Olivia's hand as they got off the plane with their friends. Peter shook their hands and thanked them for all their support over the last couple of days. They humbly replied that it was their pleasure to help, and gingerly gave Olivia hugs as they went to go home. Broyles had sent cars to pick them up, and Peter sat with Olivia in the back seat, her head resting against his shoulder. He leaned into her, too, his cheek against her hair. He took her hand and squeezed. It took her a while to register the contact. She didn't quite squeeze back, but he fingers gently curled around his hand, her touch warm and smooth upon his skin.

When they got home, it was hard for her to adjust to being back. She thought she'd never make it back to their apartment with him, yet there she was. He could see the thoughts ticking over in her head as she walked around, running her hands over things. He worried that it would be too much for her to take in at once, but she seemed to manage. She wandered into Peter's old room and tentatively sat at the piano, reaching out slowly to touch the wood. He walked up behind her, gently placing his hands in her shoulders. She flinched a little at the touch, but settled quickly. Guilt stinging him at having made her nervous, he left her briefly to go to the other side of the room and bring her the music book she gave him.

She took it delicately in her hands as if it were mad of glass. Slowly she began turning the pages, seeing all the music he'd played and written while she was away. He sat on the stool beside her. "Pick one," he said. "And I'll play it for you. Anything you want."

He wasn't sure if she was listening to him. She didn't look to him, didn't nod. She kept flicking through the pieces, most of them untitled. He'd always been bad at naming his pieces. She stopped turning pages, smoothing her fingertips over the page and handing the book back to him.

"I didn't write this one," he confessed. "It's a cover of a song that came out while you were gone. A lot of songs were released that made me think of you, so a lot of these are covers. Are you sure this is the one you want?"

She looked back at it, her fingers tracing her lyrics scribbled beneath the notes before she pressed it firmly into his hands.

"OK," he said, smiling a little. "But I should warn you, I'm not a very good singer."

She didn't seem to care, so he brought his hands to the piano, starting a slow and sad melody. He wasn't lying about not being a good singer – he was OK – but he didn't really sing in front of people. But this was for Olivia, so he swallowed and prepared himself.

_Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry  
You don't know how lovely you are  
I had to find you  
Tell you I need you  
Tell you I've set you apart_

Tell me your secrets  
And ask me your questions  
Oh, let's go back to the start  
Running in circles  
Coming up tails  
Heads on the science apart

Nobody said it was easy  
It's such a shame for us to part  
Nobody said it was easy  
No one ever said it would be this hard  
Oh take me back to the start

I was just guessing  
At numbers and figures  
Pulling the puzzles apart  
Questions of science  
Science and progress  
Don't speak as loud as my heart

Oh tell me you love me  
Come back and haunt me  
Oh and I rush to the start  
Running in circles  
Chasing our tails  
Coming back as we are

Nobody said it was easy  
Oh, it's such a shame for us to part  
Nobody said it was easy  
No one ever said it would be so hard  
I'm going back to the start

As he finished and looked over at her, he noticed her head was bowed, her hair falling to hide her face. "Hey," he murmured, tenderly touching her cheek. While her face was blank, there were tears in her eyes - but she refused to shed them. They were to be locked up somewhere deep inside her with the rest of the anguish, waiting to be unleashed.

But after a moment, she looked like she was trying to say something but she couldn't, and that caused a frustrated expression to come over her face as she shook her head.

"Hey, it's OK," he whispered. He couldn't help but feel excitement arise inside him. Olivia was making her way back. She was trying to say something. He took her face in his hands, trying to keep her eyes on him. "If you're not ready to talk yet, I'll wait as long as it takes. All that matters to me is that you're safe now."

She calmed down a bit but she still looked frustrated. He took her in his arms. "What can I do to make you feel better, sweetheart? Do you want to see Rachael?"

A flash of fear came over her face then and she shook her head vehemently. She wasn't ready.

"OK, OK, that's alright." He wracked his brain, trying to figure out what she wanted. "Do you want me to call Lincoln or Charlie?"

Wrong again.

He guessed a few more things but he couldn't get it right and she looked upset with herself for not being able to speak. He gave her a pen. "Show me."

She didn't want to write on the good paper of his book, so she hesitantly took his hand and started drawing – her words still weren't quite making it from inside to outside yet. He looked down and saw a sun. He tried to figure out what she meant. Then he realised. He promised her before she left that he'd show her a sunrise when she got back. "Do you want to go to Reiden Lake like we said?"

She nodded, biting her lip.

"Like, now?"

Another nod, this time a little more shy. She used the pen to tap at the sun on his hand.

He looked at the clock. It was still early in the morning, and they'd slept on the plane. Normally he'd tell her to wait another day, but he'd do anything for Olivia. She still hadn't seen the sun the whole time since she'd been kidnapped, even after being rescued. She'd hated the bright lights in the hospital – after two months, she'd gotten used to the darkness. Breaking from that was yet another tough adjustment that came with her freedom.

"OK, sweetheart," he said, touching her face. "If that's what you want, we can go. I'll pack some breakfast for us. Why don't you go get a jacket, OK?"

She blinked away her tears and got up, heading to their room. He put his head in his hands and tried to grapple with the joy and heartbreak he was feeling. His Olivia was trying to come back to him. But she was stuck. He didn't know how to help her, but he had to try.

It was a long drive in the dark to get there. He let Olivia sleep in the seat next to him, hoping that this was the beginning of the end of her struggle. When they finally got there, it was still dark, but pre-dawn light was beginning to ebb its way into the fringes of the sky. He parked the car in a camping area in the woods, turning to the sleeping girl next to him. He didn't want to wake her – she looked so far away from her troubles when she was asleep. He gently shook her shoulder. "Livia," he whispered. "Wake up, sweetheart. We're here."

Her eyes fluttered open and her tired gaze rested on his face. She looked around at her new surroundings, her eyes curious. They got out of the car and he took her hand, holding a torch and a bag of food with the other. There walked through a tiny clearing, still filled with a handful of fireflies, to get to the lake. "I don't think Walter owns the house anymore," he explained to Olivia. "So I had to come this way through the campgrounds on this side of the lake."

Olivia was looking around at all the fireflies as they prepared to disappear for the day. Peter smiled. "I used to catch those all the time when I was a kid."

He led her to a spot on the grass by the lake, sitting with her. She was still lost somewhere in her head, struggling to link her thoughts with her body and the outside world. "You know, I remember when we used to come down here during the summers. Mum and I," he said. "Walter was always still working back in the city. I'd stand out here for hours, looking at the water. It used to seem like it went on forever. And on Saturdays... I'd always wake up just before my alarm. I could smell the pancakes... which meant that Walter was here. I'd creep down the stairs, and there he'd be... standing over the stove, flipping pancakes. He seemed so big back then. I'd just stand there watching him. He used to make them in the shape of whales. They were my favorite."

He wasn't sure if Olivia was listening to any of this. She was hugging her knees, looking out over the lake as it stretched before them – wide and flat and blue. There was still something missing from her face, some spark gone from her eyes he couldn't discern.

Something inside him cracked. He couldn't do this anymore.

"Olivia, please," he whispered, tears in his eyes. "I know you're in there somewhere."

She looked to him. He could tell she was listening, but she was still stuck.

"Please, Liv," he choked. "You've got to come back to me."

Hugging herself a little tighter, she looked down and away, and he couldn't tell what was going through her head. He cupped her cheek, desperately pulling her back to him.

"_Please_. I need you back. I love you so much. Livia, you belong with me."

Something in those words struck her. Her eyes flittered to his again, but this time they were full of tears just like his own. She reached out to him, gently letting her fingers trace his face as if testing to see if he were real. "Peter…?" she whispered, followed by more tears.

Peter's eyes went wide. She just said his name. He hadn't heard her speak in four days. "Oh my God," he murmured, pulling her close as sobs ripped through her body, making her shake violently against him as he held her. This was it – the breaking point where she was finally letting out all that emotion and trauma her mind had been suppressing. The walls were coming down.

"Peter," she said again, crying louder. She couldn't seem to stop herself even to take a breath.

"Shh, sweetheart, it's OK," he assured her, his hand resting on the back of her head as he buried his face in her hair. "Oh my God. I'm so glad you're back."

"I…I…" she spluttered, trying to speak. She couldn't get her words out and her brow furrowed in frustration again.

"Calm down, calm down," he soothed her. "You don't have to say anything yet. Don't force it. Just wait until you're ready, OK?"

She just kept crying. Eventually he managed to quiet her to the point where she was weeping softly in his arms as opposed to bawling her eyes out. He wiped her tears from her cheek. "Don't cry, sweetheart. It's OK. You're safe now. They're never gonna hurt you again. I'm here. It's OK."

She nodded, burying her face in the warmth of his chest and clinging to him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter could see the sun starting to rise. "Livia, look." She turned her face from him to stare out over the lake, mesmerised by the inching movements of the sun. He loved that she was so enthralled by something he took for granted every single day. A tiny smile graced his face as he watched her. "It's beautiful, huh?"

She nodded, looking to him. There was something in her eyes he couldn't place – a crazy mixture between relief and sorrow and love. Still not saying a word, she leaned forward and kissed him softly as light started to spread over their bodies and the fireflies abandoned them.

**Please review! There's hope for Peter and Olivia yet!**


	24. Two of Us

**References: "Don't apologise" (Entrada), "I thought about you" (Marionette), "It's OK. I'm here now" (Marionette), Peter's Cantonese (Snakehead), "the two of us together" (6B), "I want what you want" (6B) **

Olivia woke up to find Peter staring at her, a faint smile on his face. She smiled back sleepily. "Hey."

"Hey," he replied, smirking. "Sorry for staring. I'm just so glad you're home."

"Me too," she said, snuggling a little closer. Her smile faded and she bit her lip. "I have to go to the Federal Building today."

"I know. Are you OK?"

"I'm fine. I'm mostly there to support Justine, so…"

"It's not just about her, Livia. It's about you, too. We've been waiting two weeks for you guys to get all your test results back. I know it's been worrying you, even if you don't show it." She just shrugged, looking at his chest rather than his face. "Livia," he said softly, tipping her chin up so she'd look at him. "You need to know that if the test results are bad and you're sick, that it won't change how I feel about you at all. I love you and I'll be here no matter what."

She bit her lip and shook her head. "It's not that simple. You can't promise that."

"Yeah, I can," he said. "I know I haven't always done right by you in the past, but I meant it when I said I wasn't letting you go this time. So I don't care what happened in there, or what they did to you, or if you're sick. All that matters to me is that you're here and you love me back. After that, everything else becomes manageable."

She didn't say anything to that - just lay in his arms and wondered to herself whether it would really be that easy. What if she was sick? What if she had something she could pass on to Peter? If she did, she would never be able to live with that. She would rather leave him than risk him getting sick.

"Do you want me to come in with you today?" he asked.

She wanted desperately to say yes, but her stoic attitude kicked in and she restrained herself. "If you want to."

"I'd like to come, Olivia. Even if I just wait outside, I'd rather be there to support you if you need it. But only if you want me to, of course."

"I think that would be OK."

"Good," he said. "It's going to be OK, Olivia." He touched her face tenderly and leaned in, kissing her softly. They hadn't done more than this since she got back because he was wary of pushing her into more than she was ready for. But she didn't seem to care. She deepened the kiss, pulling him close. He stifled a moan and wound his fingers into her hair. Tight.

_The man in the basement grabbed a fistful of her hair. __"So you're a virgin, huh? It's a damn shame I've got to keep you that way."_

_"Doesn't mean we can't have some fun, Al," another guy laughed._

"_That's true." He smiled – his eyes dark with arousal. He pulled her up, painfully tugging on her hair. "You're coming with me, princess."_

Olivia's eyes snapped open and she pulled away from Peter, ripping his hand from her hair. Her breath was quick, her heartbeat panicky.

"Livia? Are you OK? I'm sorry, did I do something -"

Olivia shook her head and cut off his words by crushing her lips against his. She was tired of him treating her like she was made of glass. She could do this – she wasn't going to let those bastards take this away from them. She kissed Peter a little harder, beginning to tease the skin under his pyjama shirt, her palms moving upwards over his stomach. His breath caught and he broke away. "Livia," he murmured against her lips. "What are you doing?"

"It's OK," she whispered back, preparing to take off his shirt. "I want to."

He pulled her hands away. "But it's too soon."

"Don't worry," she said. "I'm ready."

"Well, I'm not."

She stopped then, pulling back and staring at him. Unshed tears hung in her eyes in frustration and hurt. "This is because of what happened in there, isn't it? I told you, Peter, if you don't want me anymore all you have to do is say so."

"Of course I want you, Olivia. I love you."

"Then it's because I could be sick, right?"

"It's got nothing to do with that."

"Then _why_?" she asked, unable to hide the pain in her voice.

He sighed, looking her in the eyes. "I'm scared of hurting you, or making you nervous. Don't lie to me, Olivia. You just got a flashback, didn't you?

She started to weep then. Frustrated with herself, she wiped her eyes, trying to hold it together. "I can handle it."

"Livia, why didn't you tell me to stop?"

"Because I hate being like this!"

"Like what?"

"Weak. Damaged. I just want to push past the fear and be with you again. I don't want to let what those people did take away what we have together. I won't!"

"Shh, sweetheart," he said softly, cupping her cheek to calm her. "You're anything but weak. You've survived more in that place than I could have imagined. And no, we won't let them take our love from us. They can't. But Livia, this is going to take time. I'm not ready. I'm still too nervous. And so are you. Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm not going anywhere. You'll see – when the time is right, we'll both know it. And it'll be amazing. OK?"

She nodded, wiping her eyes. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He sighed, guilt filling his eyes. "Livia, I'm sorry about what happened. It was awful just to listen to what was going on through the wire - I can't even imagine how much worse it was for you to go through it. I'm so sorry."

She shook her head. "Don't apologise. When I was in there I thought about you, and I held on to you. You were the only thing that got me through. If it wasn't for you, I would never have made it back. You saved my life."

He didn't know what to say to that. He just leaned over, brushing some hair from her forehead and placing a feather-light kiss there. He paused and looked into her eyes earnestly, rubbing circles on her back until he found his words.

"Liv, you've got no idea how much I missed you. The house was so quiet and cold with you gone. On the wire I'd hear you crying or screaming and I felt so helpless. All I wanted was to beat the life out of those bastards who hurt you and bring you home and hold you and never let you go - but I _couldn't_. I've never known a pain like that before," he muttered soberly. "Have you ever felt like you could burn the world down?"

She nodded, caressing his face. Struck by his honesty and heart, she shyly leaned in, kissing him softly. "It's OK," she murmured against his lips. "I'm here now."

* * *

As they walked into the Federal Building, Peter knew Olivia was more scared than she wanted to admit. He held her hand and every now and then she'd squeeze, her jaw locked to keep herself from crying.

As they headed to the Fringe Division office, a little boy called out. "Holly!"

Olivia turned around to find little Max sprinting towards her, a giant smile on his face. Despite everything, she couldn't help but smile back and knelt down to give him a hug. "Hey, Max. How are you, little guy?"

"It worked! You told me that counting trick would bring me home and it did. We got rescued, Holly. Now I'm back with my Mum and Dad."

"That's great, Max."

His parents ran up behind him. "I'm so sorry, if he's bothering you, ma'am. He doesn't normally run off like that -" his mother started.

"But Mum, this is Holly!"

The woman stopped dead, her eyes wide. "Oh my goodness. They told us you're the agent who went undercover."

"Yes," she replied, shaking their hands. "Olivia Dunham."

Max's mother started to cry. "I have no idea how to thank you for what you did. You saved our son."

"Max hasn't stopped talking about you," his father said.

"Well, he's a wonderful kid. It was my pleasure to look after him." She turned back to Max. "You're a really brave kid, you know that?"

"Well, not as brave as you," he replied. "They said you work for the FBI and you went in there so you could save me. Is that true?"

"Yes, that's true."

He smiled. "Well, when I grow up, I want to be FBI too."

"That'd be nice," she said sweetly.

Max turned to Peter. "Are you Holly's boyfriend?"

"Yeah, I am," he said, smiling and taking her hand.

"Be nice to her, OK?" Max said warningly. "Coz she was really nice to me, and if you make her sad I'll get really mad at you."

"Max, that's enough!" his mother scolded.

Peter just laughed. "I'm sure you would, kiddo. But don't worry. I'll do my best not to make her sad. I'm very lucky to have her."

"Thank you so much for everything, Agent Dunham," Max's father said sincerely. "If there's anything we can do for you -"

"There's no need," she replied. She turned back to the little boy. "It was good to see you again, Max. Go home and get some rest, OK?"

"OK. Thank you, Holly," he said, giving her another hug.

"You're welcome, little guy," she said as his parents took him home.

When they were alone, Peter smiled and kissed her sweetly, amazed by how his girlfriend had changed so many lives. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she replied, glancing away and remembering what they came here for. "Let's get this over with, OK?"

They walked up and found Justine waiting outside one of the social worker's offices with her parents. "Hi Justine," Olivia said.

"Hi Holly," she replied. The young girl stopped and corrected herself. "Sorry, I meant to say 'Olivia'. It's hard to get used to."

"How are you feeling?"

"Really nervous. I'm sorry I called you and asked you if we could get our results together. I just couldn't do this without someone else who knows what it's like."

"I understand. I'm nervous, too."

"These are my parents. I was born here but they don't speak very good English, so I'll have to translate," Justine said, and they all introduced themselves. Her father said something to Olivia in Cantonese and Justine translated. "He says he's very grateful for what you did to bring me home. He owes you everything."

"Tell him I appreciate that, but he doesn't owe me anything. I was just doing my job and it was my pleasure to help you. I'm just glad you're home safe with your parents again."

Justine was about to translate when Peter spoke up, speaking Cantonese with great skill and eloquence. Her father said something back, smiling in surprise.

"I didn't know you spoke Cantonese," Olivia said, shocked.

He shrugged with a smirk. "Get to know me a little."

"Is this your boyfriend? Peter?" Justine asked.

"Yeah."

"Marry him," she joked. "He speaks Cantonese better than any American I know. He's smart. Even my father says he is impressed."

"Yeah, he is pretty smart," Olivia replied, smirking at Peter.

They kept talking to Justine's family until the social worker came for them. Olivia gave Peter one last hug before she went into the office to get her test results. "Good luck, sweetheart," he whispered to her. "I'll be right out here, whatever happens, OK?"

She nodded and kissed him softly before going in with Justine. They sat at a desk with the social worker going through their files on the other side. Justine reached for Olivia's hand and squeezed, tears coming to her eyes.

"As you know, due to the drug use and sexual abuse both of you suffered within the trafficking ring, it was important that you be tested for various infectious diseases," the social worker explained. "First of all, I'm glad to report that neither of you are HIV positive. Nor did either of you test positive for hepatitis or any of the sexually transmitted diseases we checked for. You'll have to come back in six months so we can arrange further testing, but as far as we can tell, you're both clean. You should understand that most of the other victims didn't receive the same news. You're very lucky."

Olivia didn't know what to say. She was frozen almost, completely overwhelmed. She was clean. She was going to be fine.

"Thank you," Justine said, breaking the silence. Tears were streaming down her face. "Thank you so much."

When their meeting was over, the two girls hugged each other and went outside to find Justine's parents talking to Peter in Cantonese. The younger girl ran straight to her parents to explain to them in Chinese that she was fine, and they all held each other in relief. Meanwhile, Olivia stood frozen at the door, trying to keep from crying. Peter saw this and immediately assumed the worst, walking straight to her.

"Livia, sweetheart, what happened?" he asked gently, cupping her face with one hand and holding her hand in the other.

She fought her tears and lost, letting them slide down her face. Somehow she brought herself to look at him. Mixed in with the love in his eyes was an unmistakeable fear. She smiled through her tears. "I'm OK," she choked. "Everything was negative."

He breathed a huge sigh of relief and pulled her into a hug, holding the back of her head in the palm of his hand as he kissed her hair. "Thank God," he whispered, pulling back to touch her face. She took this as a cue and leaned in to kiss him soundly, pulling him close. Afterwards, their foreheads rested against each other and their breaths mixed lightly, his thumbs coming up to wipe the tears from her face. "I love you," he whispered to her. She couldn't bring herself to speak, so she kissed him softly in response. That was enough.

When they were ready to go they said goodbye to Justine and her family. The girl's father gave Olivia some traditional charms for good luck, just as he had done for Charlie, again expressing their gratitude. Justine's father said something serious to Peter in Cantonese, hinting at Olivia, and Peter responded sincerely. Olivia couldn't tell what they were saying but she knew it was about her.

* * *

Later that night, Olivia and Peter walking back home after dinner, hand in hand. It was a beautiful night. Olivia had felt the relief of her news really sink in. Being out with Peter, she felt so alive and fearless because of what she'd overcome – what they'd overcome together. It was over now. Everything was getting back to normal again.

She abandoned Peter's hand to hook her arm into his instead, leaning her head on his shoulder. He smiled down at her. "You OK, sweetheart?"

She nodded, smiling back softly and nudging him. "What did Justine's father say to you, at the Federal Building?"

He gave her a boyish, teasing smile. "Can't tell you. Secret men's business."

"Come on, I know you were talking about me."

"He didn't tell me anything I didn't already know."

"Peter, what did he say?"

He took pause, holding her arm a little tighter. When he found his words, he stopped and turned to face her. "He was grateful that you saved his daughter's life. He told me people like you were precious. He told me to honour you, and treasure you, and guard you with my life. Because the world is a better place with you in it." He smiled earnestly. "Like I said, nothing I didn't already know."

She blinked a few times, not sure what to say. "Do you really believe that?"

"Of course I do. Olivia, you know I've felt that way about you from the beginning, long before you ever had feelings for me. I love you, so, so much," he said sincerely, kissing her soundly. He pulled away, looking into her eyes adoringly and thinking to himself. "You want to know a secret?"

"Always," she chuckled.

He smiled softly, a little nervous. "I know this might scare you, and if it does, I'm really sorry."

"It's OK," she said, but she bit her lip regardless.

Peter took her hands in his, looking her in the eye. "I think about us. A lot. Like, the future, you know? I know things didn't work for us in Quantico, but I think we've got it right now. The whole time you were undercover made me realise how much you changed my life, how much I needed you. Now we're back together again and everything's beautiful to me. Especially you. But Livia…" He chuckled softly. "If this is where we are now after being together for just over a year on and off…I can't even imagine where we'd be in five years. Or ten. Or fifty. I never thought I'd say this to a girl ever in my life, but… Livia, one day - when we're older - I'd really, really love to marry you. It'd make me the luckiest son of a bitch who ever lived, honest to God. And I want to build us a house somewhere, and give you everything you ever wanted. I want a life together – you and me. I mean, I know this is all years down the track and we still have a long way to go until we're ready, but I can see it in my head. I can see what the two of us together looks like and it's beautiful." He sighed, noticing her lowered eyes as he tucked some hair behind her ear. "Does that scare you?"

She smiled faintly. "A little. Not because it doesn't make me happy." She bit her lip and looked down and their linked hands. "What scares me more is that I think I agree with you."

That shocked him. He brought a hand to her face and saw the verity in her eyes. "Livia?"

"Not now," she clarified. "But one day. Maybe."

"Really?" he replied, his smile full of hope.

She took a deep breath and kissed him fully, holding him close and pouring all her love into the kiss. "Peter," she whispered against his lips. "I want what you want."

He smiled, kissing her softly in return before responding. "What do you think we should do about that?"

"I'm not sure yet," she admitted. "But for now let's just go home."

"Sounds like a plan," he said with a boyish grin.

She smiled innocently and stepped behind him, turning back and offering him her hand. He took it, of course – he'd follow her to Thailand barefoot if he had to. Her touch was warm and smooth, and her thumb traced a light circle on his skin as they walked down the streets to their home.

He smiled to himself. There was no way he was letting her go, ever.

**Please review! We're down to the last few chapters now…**


	25. Hold Me Tight

**References: pretzels in New York (Bad Dreams), "It's amazing, isn't it?" (The No-Brainer), "It's OK. I'm here now." (Marionette) **

**Songs: Are you gonna be my girl by Jet, First date by Blink 182**

Almost two weeks later, the date of ZFT's would-be terrorist attack finally came around. Through the evidence and suspects the FBI had collected, they'd been able to learn that Conrad's weapon was going to be used at a Times Square concert in New York on the 4th of July. The FBI and the New York government were hosting an award ceremony that weekend to celebrate the averted crisis and pay tribute to the police who worked so passionately on the case. All the agents were being flown up to New York for the weekend, all expenses paid, which had given Peter and Olivia the chance to explore a city they loved with their friends.

On the morning of the ceremony, Olivia, Peter, Lincoln, Charlie and Sonya all sat in the front row of a massive audience of FBI agents, their families, some of the victims they saved and the press as Broyles gave a speech. "On this day," he began. "We were supposed to be experiencing an immense tragedy here in New York City. However, due to the choices that were made by our government, and the tireless efforts of our law enforcement all across the country, we are instead celebrating a great victory against terrorism, our nation's greatest threat. Not only were we able to cripple the American branch of one of the world's most notorious terrorist organisations, we were also able to free hundreds of American and international citizens enslaved by this ring to finance their work. But our work is not yet over. There are still 27 million slaves in the world today – more than at any other time in history – and the threat of terrorism remains a great one. The FBI, the CIA and local and state law enforcement all across the United States of America will always be working at our very best to protect the American people from these threats."

Broyles continued to commend the work of the agents and consultants who contributed to the case, and the Mayor of New York gave a speech thanking them for protecting his city from another terrorist attack in the couple of years since 9/11. Olivia and some of the other agents received the FBI Shield of Bravery for their undercover work in the ring. Also, Olivia and Charlie received their internship certificates and their new badges, being officially upgraded from Junior Agents to FBI Special Agents. When the ceremony was over they all hugged each other and celebrated. "I'm so proud of you, Livia," Peter said, kissing her. She beamed, unable to take her eyes off the beautiful bravery medal she'd received.

"Not bad, kiddo," Lincoln teased. "My favourite junior agent's all grown up! Nawwww…."

She punched him on the shoulder playfully, and gave Charlie a hug to congratulate him on passing his internship too. "We're agents, Livvy!" he exclaimed, an enormous Cheshire grin adorning his face. Peter gave her another congratulatory kiss and Charlie received one from Sonya.

Olivia also got the chance to meet up with some of the girls she hadn't seen since being in the brothels, like Sasha and Shannon. It was amazing seeing them again. Olivia barely recognised them – their bruises were gone and there was some light in their eyes that she'd never seen before. They were free. But they were still struggling. Many of them were still in therapy for their drug addictions and some of them had learned that they were HIV positive or had an STD. But more than anything, they were all happy to see Olivia. They were all kind of shocked that the 19 year old Holly they'd come to know was actually an FBI agent, but more than that they were immensely grateful for everything she did to help save them.

When Olivia went back to her friends, Broyles came over to greet them. "Congratulations on your efforts," he said to the whole group before turning to Olivia and Charlie. "Especially you two. It's good to see you as Special Agents at last."

"Thank you, sir," they both replied respectfully.

"Are any of you going to Times Square for the concert tonight?" he asked the group.

They all looked to each other. Honestly, they hadn't thought about it. That was where Conrad was going to release his weapon, killing hundreds of thousands, but they knew that wouldn't happen now. ZFT was broken – half their members were arrested in the raids and the FBI seized all their research and the weapons.

"It might be good for you," Broyles said, handing them some tickets. "These are free tickets to the front section of the Square. The artists performing have decided to donate all the money from the other tickets to anti human trafficking charities in honour of what you all did. Go and see the people you all helped to save. Enjoy yourselves."

Olivia took the tickets and looked to the others. "Do you want to?"

Peter shrugged. "Why not? Looks like fun."

"It is Fourth of July after all," said Sonya.

"OK," she said, smiling. "We'll go."

* * *

Later that night, Olivia and Peter walked hand in hand down the streets of New York with their friends, picking up some dinner on the way. Olivia laughed as she watched the boys happily chewing on massive pretzels like they were the greatest things in the world.

"You know, you shouldn't eat those," she teased.

Peter chuckled. "About twenty five years too late on that."

"Olivia's right," Sonya said. "They're full of fat and preservatives and -"

"Jeez, woman! Stop spanking my inner child," Charlie joked in mock frustration, teasing his fiancé by taking a giant bite out of the pretzel. "Mmmm…nom nom nom…"

Sonya cringed. "Eugh. Why am I marrying you again?"

"Because I'm awesome and I love you to pieces," he smirked, kissing her cheek. The rest of them "awwwwww"ed and Sonya blushed, playfully slapping Charlie.

By the time they got to Times Square, the place was packed with hundreds of thousands of people. The roads were blocked so everyone was standing on the street, all separated in groups by barricades as they watched the concert. They all looked around, amazed. "How many people do they estimate are here?" Lincoln asked one of the cops supervising the event.

"Almost a million," he replied. "Only a couple hundred thousand tickets went on sale, everyone else got places further away for free. We get more people on New Year's Eve, though."

Olivia looked to Peter, relief filling her eyes. "Don't worry about it," he said to her. "They're all safe now thanks to you."

"Thanks to _us_," she corrected, smiling wistfully at the others. "We all did this. We all saved their lives."

Peter squeezed her hand. "Liv…" he said in a voice only she could hear. "Everything you went through…was it worth it?"

She squeezed back. "It would have been worth it if we just got to save one person. Instead we freed hundreds from the rape trade, crippled an international terrorist organisation and stopped almost a million people from dying some gruesome, macabre death tonight. So, yeah. It was worth it."

He looked around at the enormous crowds, blown away by what could have happened to them. "It's amazing, isn't it? All these people, and they don't have a clue how crazy it all really is. The world...everything."

"If we do our job, they'll never have to," Olivia replied. She looked to the others. "Come on, guys, let's just have fun tonight."

A cop led them to through the barricade to the front section of the crowd, right in front of the stage as Good Charlotte finished playing The Anthem. All the biggest bands of 2003 were going to be there that night. Peter laughed, elated by how cool this all was and took Olivia's hand, pulling her into the massive mosh-pit at the front of the crowd as someone announced the next band. The crowd went crazy as Jet came on stage, all the way from Australia, and rocked out the opening riffs of Are You Gonna Be My Girl.

_I said a 1,2,3, _

_take my hand and come with me  
'Cause you look so fine  
And I really wanna make you mine.  
_

_I said you look so fine  
And I really wanna make you mine._

_4,5,6 _

_Come on and get your kicks  
Now you don't need money  
When you look like that, do ya, honey?_

The group of friends were having a great time, riding the vibe of the thousands of people around them who were drinking, partying, dancing and moshing in the street. It was awesome. Peter grinned as he watched Olivia dance, completely losing herself. It was a long time since he'd seen her so happy and free. She was so caught up in the music and the atmosphere that she was completely oblivious to his staring. He was mesmerised as he watched how she smiled, the way her body moved and her hair tossed around, her skin illuminated by the neon lights of Times Square. Eventually she caught him standing still, just looking at her, while the rest of the crowd surged around them. She grinned playfully and took his hands in hers. "Dance with me!" she laughed over the music.

He'd never been able to say no to that face. He kissed her deeply and they moshed and danced into the night as different bands came out to play for the enormous crowd. Blink 182 came on and Peter grinned as he heard the riff. "I love this song!" he shouted to her over the music.

_In the car I just can't wait  
to pick you up on our very first date  
Is it cool if I hold your hand?  
Is it wrong if I think it's lame to dance?  
_

She laughed as they moshed and danced together, the crowd going nuts around them. This was insane. She'd never been around so many people in her life, and seeing almost a million people dancing in the street was crazy.

_When you smile, I melt inside  
I'm not worthy of a minute of your time  
I really wish it was only me and you  
I'm jealous of everybody in the room  
_

Peter stilled her, grinning and leaning in to kiss her. She smiled against his lips. She hadn't been this happy in a long time. Neither had he.

_Let's go, don't wait, this night's almost over  
Honest, let's make this night last forever  
Forever and ever, let's make this last forever  
Forever and ever, let's make this last forever  
_

Charlie pulled out a digital camera and got the group together, asking a random navy guy on leave to take their photo. The friends all hung they're arms around each other and smiled, elated by the atmosphere and their victory. They felt unstoppable.

* * *

When the concert came to an end they all walked back through the darkened streets of New York to their hotel. When Olivia and Peter eventually made their way to their room, she turned back and kissed him amorously, cupping his face in both hands. "I love you."

"I loved you first," he smirked. "You took a while to catch up."

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Not that anyone's keeping score or anything."

He shrugged sheepishly, kissing her back. Struck by some boldness she hadn't felt in a long time, Olivia flicked her eyes to his briefly to test the desire there before deepening the kiss and fisting his shirt tightly in her hands. As they kept kissing, she was just about to take it off when he gently took hold of her wrists. "Livia," he breathed. "We don't have to."

"Don't you want to?" she asked, slightly apprehensive about his answer. She still carried insecurities about whether Peter still wanted her after everything that was done to her.

He smiled reassuringly and cupped her face, kissing her forehead. "My love," he murmured to her. "There's never a moment where I don't want you. But if we're doing this then I have to be sure that you're ready. To be honest, I'm a little nervous. I don't want to scare you."

"You won't. I just want us to get back to the way we used to be. All I'm asking is for us to try."

He thought about it before nodding slowly. "We'll try," he said. "But will you at least promise to say if you want me to stop? I know how you try and ignore your flashbacks and stuff, so you need to tell me."

"Peter, I hardly ever get flashbacks anymore. It's more just reminders, and those I can handle."

"But you'll still feel uncomfortable or anxious and that's not what I want for you. So please, sweetheart, tell me if I do something that gives you any reminders, OK?"

She sighed and nodded.

"I love you," he said softly.

"I love you, too."

**M rated:**

The first kiss was tentative, but everything after that was an avalanche. They couldn't stop it – the way they felt for each other was just too much and they'd been apart for too long. For two whole months they'd gone through unimaginable pain of being apart in unbearable circumstances, and even the simplest comfort of holding each other's hand had been taken from them. But now they were taking it back. They were taking back everything.

Their hands couldn't be satisfied, roaming each other's bodies, tugging at outer layers of clothing and exploring forgotten details of skin - wanting more, always more. While they were driven by love and an intense need, their movements were slow, affectionate, savouring every touch they'd missed. The back of her knees hit the edge of the bed and she gasped, surprised by the contact. He smirked and kissed her deeply, stealing her breath away as they settled on the bed. She shivered a little as the weight and scope of his body dominated her. She felt so small. He noticed and kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips, as his hand moved down her side to rest on her hip.

While Olivia wasn't scared, she still couldn't control the light quiver in her breath. There were so many thoughts rushing through her head as Peter lay over her. Part of her was fuelled intensely by an insatiable need to be close to the young man she loved, while another was holding her back with a nervousness that made her hands shake as she touched his chest. The whole whirlwind of conflicting emotions made her feel like it was their first time again, which made her feel like an idiot. She and Peter had done this a thousand times before – why was she so apprehensive? She shook her head to clear it and kissed Peter hard and ardently, wanting to push past the nerves and feel what it was like to be with him again.

Peter started moving his lips in tiny kissed down her neck, making her moan. She wound her fingers into his hair as his lips moved down her chest and along the edges of her bra, kissing every inch of skin he could find. He felt her shiver beneath him and he wasn't sure if it was out of fear or need, but the tender pressure of her hand against his scalp told him not to stop. Despite her stubborn attitude, he felt he had to tread carefully here. He had to pay attention to her reactions, because in her usual stoic way, she would probably not tell him to stop. There were still moments when they made out where a simple touch in the wrong spot reminded her of something one of the men from the brothels did – usually those four guys who'd tried to assault her in the basement, or Conrad, who abused her while she was drugged up. Sometimes he'd catch her opening her eyes during a kiss, just to be sure that it was Peter touching her. Other times he'd find her scrunching her eyes shut, as if she was trying to imagine him away. Either way, it worried him – the last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

His movements were slow and always tender, proving the innocence of his heart to her. He explored her body more with his lips than with his hands – those men had hit her and grabbed for her with their hands, but they had never really kissed her once. They had never loved her. He didn't want there to be any association between him and those men. He adored her, and he would never force her into something she didn't want.

Despite the slow affection of their grazes and touches, they felt like their bodies were on fire, the attention to detail leaving them both quivering in anticipation. Olivia's hands raked down his stomach, feeling the muscles there shudder, and toyed shyly with the edge of his boxers. She gently pushed his chest so that he rolled to her side, laying over him and kissing over his body. Hesitantly, she slid her hand into his boxers and started touching him as she kissed down his stomach, her long blonde hair tickling his skin. He throbbed with desire as he realised where her mouth was headed. But he was hesitant, worrying that her giving him head might bring back memories of those four guys in the basement. She was always pushing herself into doing more than she was ready for. Not wanting to grab her hair for fear of causing a flashback, he propped himself up on his elbows and tipped her chin up, pulling her gently back to him for a kiss. He gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her from him. "No more, Liv," he panted.

She looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry, did I do somethi-"

"No, sweetheart. Of course not."

"Then why won't you let me -"

"I'll let you do whatever you want next time. But this time's about you, OK?"

He gave her a deep, lazy kiss and felt her sigh into his mouth as he pushed her back so he was laying over her again. They removed their last pieces of clothing and he gently rubbed his palm in a circle over her flat, warm belly, slowly moving lower with each rotation. He gave her a chance to tell him to stop, but she didn't. Cautiously, his hand moved down between her thighs to gently touch her. She shuddered, flinched, her breath catching as her body froze up. He stopped.

"Livi, I'm sorry." He seemed to say it over and over and she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She took a moment to relax, reminding herself that it was only Peter.

"I'm OK," she assured him with a kiss.

"Livia…"

"It's alright. Don't stop."

He was hesitant, but he knew he had to trust her if she was going to trust him. He gently started touching her, his fingers timidly exploring. She seemed to be OK with it, her eyes half-lidded and breaths shaky as she moaned softly.

But Peter found he had reminders of his own to grapple with. He restricted himself to touching the outside of her, knowing that if he dared to ease a finger inside, he'd only be reminded of how Conrad had abused her while she was defenceless, molesting her so roughly he'd made her bleed. The very idea filled Peter with genuine rage. He couldn't stand the fact that someone had hurt the girl who he knew would one day kiss his kids goodnight. He just couldn't.

The images filling his head became unbearable and removed his hand, making her groan softly in disappointment. He kissed her deeply. "I love you," he swore to her, choking slightly. "So, so much."

"I love you, too," she whispered against his lips, cupping his face in both hands. "Don't worry, Peter. It's just us."

"But -"

"Peter, it's OK," she promised him. "I'm not scared. I know it's only you."

To prove her point she kissed him fully, her hands gripping his hair, running over his shoulder blades, clinging to him desperately and leaning into all that male strength that was holding her. But her hands were still trembling and he knew she was nervous. He gently cupped her face, trying to reassure her. "Livia, you have no idea how much I love you," he murmured, kissing her. Feeling her arms hook around his neck, he sighed into her mouth, struck by her willingness and trust in him. He broke away to kiss down her body again. "You're so beautiful, Olivia," he murmured against her skin. "So beautiful."

She gasped as his lips moved over stomach, her whole body trembling with urgency. He edged lower, slowly, surprised that she hadn't told him to stop by the time he got to her inner thighs. When his tongue finally snaked out to taste her, she shivered. He glanced at her face to see if she was upset but he only saw her eyes half-lidded, her brow furrowed and wet lips parted in some heady pleasure that overwhelmed her. Smirking, he continued to tease and pleasure her with his tongue while her fingers twisted roughly into his hair, spurring him on. He could tell she was close. She was trembling all over, as though it was beyond her control. Gasping, whimpering sounds rose up from her belly into her chest and out of her mouth. He couldn't believe the power of his touch, but her breathing and moaning made it true.

Before she could come, she tugged on his hair and brought him back up to her face for a deep, sexual kiss, tasting herself eagerly on his tongue. "Please, Peter. I need you now," she panted softly against his lips.

He smoothed some hair out of her eyes and looked down on her sincerely. "Are you sure?"

"You don't have to ask," she said, her eyes slightly narrowed at him.

"Liv, I can wait -"

"That's not what I want. Please, Peter. I love you and I trust you."

He nodded and kissed her affectionately, his thumb lightly grazing her cheek. She reached over to the bedside table for a condom, handing it to him so he could prepare himself. He asked her one more time if she was sure before slowly easing into her. Dropping his head by her shoulder for a moment, he stayed still, absorbing the amazing feel of the intimate contact. He pulled back and cupped her face as her fingers traced delicate patterns on his back. "Are you OK?" he whispered.

She licked her lips and nodded mutely, barely able to speak. Softening, she tried to relax herself. "Yeah," she finally breathed, smiling up at him shyly, embarrassed for being nervous. "Just…go slow, OK?"

Finding only love and reassurance written across her face, he nodded, kissing her, and started moving slowly, gently, pouring all his affection into every touch. Her lips moved over his neck and collarbone as her hands roamed, taking in the details of his body, so different from hers. Neither of them could get over the fact that after months of separation they were finally together again in this way – it felt like a miracle.

After a while he got a little bolder, taking one of her legs and wrapping it higher around him, changing his angle and pushing deeper and harder inside of her. It was perfect, and Olivia felt that familiar warmth pool in the pit of her stomach, preparing to explode. She clung to his body, holding him close, her breaths shaky and tinged with moans. He grinned at the effect he was having on her, sliding a hand between them, delicately pressing his thumb just where it should be. He had her whimpering now. "Peter, _please_," she breathed against his lips, her nails biting into his back.

He'd never been able to deny this young woman anything. He picked up his pace, kissing her deeply to swallow her moans. The fact that he could prove his love to her in this way, that he could make her feel this kind of pleasure, made his heart swell with a joy as intense as pain. She deserved everything he could give her. He brought her closer still, watching as her release washed over her, while he followed close behind. He slowed his pace as they came down from the mutual high, catching their breaths as their bodies trembled with aftershocks.

Resting over her, Peter brushed a couple of strands of hair out of her face. His thumb traced her freckles as he looked down on her amorously, taking her in. He was holding her with so much reverence - she felt like a treasure in his arms. "I can't believe this is happening," he murmured, choking up a little. "You were gone for so long I almost thought I'd never get you back. I wasn't sure I'd ever get to hold you like this again. I can't believe you're real."

She felt the threat of tears sting her eyes but she held them back. She gently cupped the back of his neck and drew him down to her, nuzzling his nose with hers. "It's OK," she whispered against his lips. "I'm here now."

He smiled. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she breathed, kissing him softly in the dark.

**Please review after all that P/O! Only 3 more chaps to go…**


	26. The Lighthouse Song

**References: strawberries in bed (Over There: Part 1), Peter being fat (Pilot), **

The group of friends had so much fun that entire weekend in New York, going sightseeing and all that. Charlie and Sonya had spent some time organising wedding stuff with their family, and Lincoln had caught up with some friends from college. Sleeping in one morning and having breakfast, Peter and Olivia were making the most of their last day in New York. Olivia moaned, popping a sugary piece of crepe in her mouth and falling back onto their hotel bed. Peter laughed as he watched her smile, naked and glistening, wrapped only in a white sheet, her blond hair splayed across the pillows. She was radiant – beautiful, but real. She caught him staring and giggled.

"I think I'm getting a sugar rush," she laughed. "This was a great idea, Peter."

"Nothing beats a good room service breakfast in bed - especially in a swanky hotel like this," he replied, eating some crepe himself.

"Well, enjoy it, coz the FBI's paying for everything. But we probably went a little overboard last night. That champagne was like $500 a bottle. I can't believe you talked me into getting that."

He laughed. "Don't worry about it. After what you did, they owe you a hell of a lot more than some expensive wine."

"Yeah, but, you know, taxpayer dollars and all that."

"You're such an altruist," he teased, kissing her sweetly. "Besides, we made good use of it last night, didn't we?"

She grinned, remembering their last few nights together, but she lowered her gaze a little. "Thank you for being so patient with me, Peter," she said earnestly, kissing his cheek. "I know it's taking me a while to get used to us sleeping together again – to be with you and not be nervous. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he replied softly, touching her face. "I've been scared too. The last thing I want is to do something that triggers a memory or makes you uncomfortable or that you're just not ready for. Frankly, I would have waited for you until I was 50 if I had to."

She laughed. "I never would have asked that of you."

"Yeah, but you never really ask for anything. I'm glad I had an excuse to spoil you this weekend and pressure you into getting insanely-overpriced wine and stuff. You deserve a lot more than you let yourself have, Livia."

"I have everything I need," she replied truthfully, kissing him. He pulled her into his arms and butterflies erupted in her stomach at the feel of all that male strength holding her. But she wasn't nervous. A woman never fears a man's strength if he is a good man. "Hey, Peter…"

"Yeah?"

"Broyles told me he was so proud of how hard you worked on the ZFT case that the FBI offered you a scholarship to Quantico so you could take the classes and become an agent. Is that true?"

He sighed. "Yeah, Livi. But I said no."

"Why not? Do you have any idea how hard it is to get into The Academy? On a full scholarship, no less?"

"You're right, it's incredible. But it's not what I want. I'd have to be in Virginia for a whole year, away from you."

"Peter, that's not fair. I don't want you to give up an opportunity like this just for me."

"It's not just that. If I was an official agent I could be working anywhere in the country, not necessarily in Fringe Division either. I like my role right now – with you and the others, helping Walter. I like things the way they are."

"But you worked so hard. I want to see you get rewarded."

He smiled and kissed her hair. "I got you back. That's enough. But all the extra money and leave and free weekends in New York ain't bad either," he teased. "The FBI's taking enough care of me sweetheart. Don't worry. I'm happy with you and the others. I just want things to stay this way."

She smiled and kissed him, pulling him closer. Breaking from the kiss, he was unable to stop staring at her. He reached to their discarded breakfast and fed her a strawberry. She giggled at the taste. "Hmm…Sweet," she said.

"Me or the strawberry?"

"Both," she replied, kissing him and letting him taste the juice on her lips.

She pulled back and touched his face. "Are you OK? You seemed nervous again last night."

"I was," he confessed, thinking back to when they'd slept together. "I didn't want to hurt you. I'm not like those guys. You have to know that."

"I do. Peter, don't worry. I'm a lot stronger than you give me credit for sometimes. You aren't the one who hurt me. You're not the one I'm scared of, OK? We're getting better and better at this each time we try. So please, don't hold back from me anymore."

"OK," he agreed. "But please don't hold back from me either. When I ask how you're feeling, I want the truth every time, Livia. If you're not fine, that's OK. I just need to know. Promise?"

"Promise," she said, kissing him.

"Are you sure?" he asked with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Coz if you're lying I might just have to use my tickle torture on you."

"No, Peter, please, I -" She screamed and laughed as his hands went to her sides, tickling mercilessly her with an evil grin on his face. "I promise! I promise, OK? Please, I can't breathe! Stop!"

He laughed and released her. She slapped him playfully. "You're a jerk sometimes, you know that?"

"You love it, don't lie," he teased.

"I'll have to get you back for that."

"Really, now?" he said, running his hand over her bare back and pulling her near for a deep kiss. Despite there being a couple of sheets between them, they could feel each other's nakedness underneath and the heat between them grew quickly. Their hands roamed each other's bodies over the fabric, eliciting moans from both of them as they kissed.

She grinned mischievously, rolling away from his grasp and getting up, wrapping a sheet around herself. He groaned, reaching for her to pull her back. "Aww, come on, baby, don't be like that."

She laughed and stood at the door. "I'm going for a shower. We have to get ready to meet the others this afternoon."

He gave her his best puppy dog eyes and she grinned at him. "Well, are you coming or not, Bishop?" she teased.

His eyes went wide and he leapt out of bed, letting her tug him into the bathroom.

* * *

Later on, they walked hand in hand down to Central Park, talking and enjoying their last day in New York. As they got to the park grounds, a sickly pale, jittery guy in a hoodie got up off a bench to meet them. Peter was worried about Olivia's safety and stepped in front of her so she was protected.

The guy offered to sell them some drugs – smack, to be precise. Peter gave him a sharp "No", starting to walk away. But Olivia just stood still. She was staring at the tiny vials of white powder in this guy's hand. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted and her breath shaky. Peter grabbed her hand fiercely and pulled her away. "No, Olivia!" he scolded as they walked on, his voice biting with a harsh and resounding desperation. "Don't even think about it! Why did you hesitate like that? What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was going to say no!"

"Really? Somehow I don't believe you, Olivia!"

"I'm trying my best, OK? You don't know how hard this is!"

"I know how hard it was for you to stop! That withdrawal was brutal, Olivia, and if you start using again you'll be right back where you started."

"Don't you think I know that? I know that better than you do."

"Then why the hell did you stop back there?"

"I don't know! I couldn't help it! I wanted to keep walking but it was like I couldn't even move my feet. I just wanted it too much. You don't know what it feels like, Peter. You don't know how perfect smack makes everything. I was stuck in that basement for two months, but when I was high, I couldn't feel pain anymore. Someone could punch me in the face and I'd barely feel it. I felt so at peace, so happy. It made me feel like my life was perfect, that everything bad was good again." She was crying angry tears now, her forehead creased in frustration. "And I miss what that felt like, Peter. I know that makes me weak, but it's true. Coz I'm still scared and I'm still in pain and I still get nightmares and all I want is to not feel that anymore. I hate myself for not being strong enough to do this. Every morning I wake up scared that I'll break and go back to using. It is so _hard_. But I'm doing my best, Peter. So you don't get to yell at me about something you don't even understand," she spat, tears in her eyes as she pushed past him.

"Livi, wait," he said softly, grabbing her wrist.

"No," she whimpered, pulling away. He reached for her again and held her tighter, pulling her back to him. "No! Leave me alone," she cried.

He forcibly wrapped his arms around her as she struggled against him. Eventually she broke, crying into his chest as he held her, rubbing soothing circles into her back. "Shhh, Livi. It's alright. It's gonna be OK." He looked over to find her embarrassed face downcast, tears in her eyes. He sighed, softening. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to yell at you. You just scared me, that's all."

She wiped her eyes. "Peter, I can't help but want it sometimes. Getting clean was hard, but staying clean is harder. You don't get it. You don't know how good that stuff feels," she murmured, wrapping her arms around herself in a kind of self-comfort.

"Give me your keys," Peter said. She obeyed and he held up a key ring that was attached. It was her 1 month sobriety chip from the drug addiction support group the FBI had been sending her to. "Olivia you earned this," he said, placing the chip in her hand and closing her fist around it. "Don't throw all that progress away over one more hit. You'll be getting your two-month chip in a few weeks – and when you do, you'll be grateful you passed up this opportunity today. You're strong, and I know you can do this. Don't give up, sweetheart. OK?"

"OK," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his middle. He kissed her hair and held her tight. He knew she'd probably struggle with this for ages, but he hoped she'd stay strong like always and make it through.

"I'm sorry I yelled, sweetheart," he said again. "It wasn't your fault you got on that stuff in the first place, so don't ever hate yourself because you're struggling. What you're going through is unimaginable to me. You're beautiful and strong and I'll always love you. You know that, right?"

She nodded mutely and he kissed her forehead. "Come on, Livia," he said, taking her hand and walking on so they could meet their friends at the Bethesda fountain where they had their (second) first kiss all those months ago.

It was a hot day and the water springing from under the angel statue was beautiful. Olivia smiled, remembering that the last time she brought Peter here it was snowing and the fountain was shut off because of ice in the pipes. "Told you it looks better in summer," she said.

Charlie, Sonya and Lincoln eventually joined them and they all sat on the edge of the fountain, laughing about the time they'd spent in New York. "I'm gonna miss this city," said Lincoln.

"Well, we'll all be back here in a couple of months for our wedding," Charlie said, hugging Sonya. "We just booked the church this morning."

"I thought you guys were doing it here in the park."

"Yeah, we wanted to, but it was too expensive," Sonya explained. "But it's kind of nice getting married in our old neighbourhood in the same church our families have gone to for years. We were both baptised there and everything. It's got a lot of history for us."

"We were wondering if you guys wanted to be involved in the wedding," Charlie said. "Like if Liv wanted to be a bridesmaid and you guys wanted to be groomsmen with my brothers."

"Of course," Olivia said, and the guys agreed. "We'd love to."

"Are you're brothers still giving you a hard time?" Peter asked Charlie.

He laughed. "Yeah. They just like making fun of me I'm the youngest and neither of them are married."

"Charlie's the baby in his family," Sonya explained, pinching his cheek to tease him. "Everybody loves Charlie. Even when we were all growing up in Brooklyn, the girls always thought he was so cute, so Sean and Marcus never let their girlfriends anywhere near him."

"It's true," Charlie bragged. "I'm irresistible."

"Alright, alright, we get it Francis," Peter said.

Olivia nudged him. "What's the matter? Jealous?"

He scoffed. "Why would I be jealous? I had my fair share of fans when I was younger, too. I had my whole 90s bad boy stereotype going on."

"Yeah, but before high school you were fat."

Peter went bright red. "Who told you that?"

"Walter."

"Of course," he muttered.

"Peter, don't be embarrassed! I think it's cute imagining a little chubby Peter waddling down the hallways in primary school…"

Lincoln laughed. "Were you really fat?"

"I was not _fat_, I was…round," he argued defensively. "Until the summer before high school, then I had a growth spurt and lost all the weight. It just happens to some kids, OK?"

"I was the tiny, scrawny kid in primary school," Lincoln admitted. "I had glasses and everything. I got my ass kicked a lot. Then I had my growth spurt in high school too, and I was fine."

"Whatever, we're all different now," Olivia said. "Let's just focus on the future. Charlie and I are real agents now – that's gonna be awesome."

"When are you coming back to work, Liv?" Lincoln asked. "I miss my old partner, you know."

"I just have to pass one more psych-eval and then Broyles is putting me on desk work for a while until I'm ready. I'm so excited."

"They're going to keep me and Walter on to help out with the Fringe taskforce," Peter said.

"I can't wait to see what cases they have for us," said Charlie. "Broyles is taking me out of Children's Crimes to work in Fringe with you guys. It's gonna be great - all of us back together, kicking criminal ass and taking names."

"Charlie, you don't have to romanticise your job just coz you're girlfriend is here," Olivia teased, turning to Sonya. "It's actually mostly research and paperwork."

"OK, that's true, but still," Charlie said. "It all adds up to something great, like us saving all those people at the concert this weekend. We really do make a difference."

They all kept talking and laughing until it was eventually time to go. Peter stood with Olivia at the foot of the Bethesda fountain and kissed her sweetly, knowing that if he ever married her one day, this is where he'd do it. He didn't care how much it cost. She'd told him a hundred times it was her favourite place in the whole wide world.

They jumped apart when they felt a flash sting their eyes and saw Charlie with a cheeky smile on his face and a camera in his hands. Olivia laughed. "Charlie!"

"Don't get mad at me yet. It's a good picture."

"Let me see," said Peter, taking the camera. It was actually a beautiful shot – both he and Olivia in the direct aftermath of their kiss, their faces close together and eyes adoring each other while the beautiful angel fountain exploded behind them. Peter nudged Olivia. "You look good, babe. You should be in the movies."

She rolled her eyes, handing the camera to Charlie. As they got ready to go, Olivia felt her child-like side take over, as it always did when she revisited a nostalgic place. She went to the edge of the fountain and closed her eyes, flipping a penny over her head and into the water, making a wish. She used to do this all the time when she was living in New York as a teenager at boarding school. Back then she used to wish to be free, for friends, to do well on her tests. All the girls used to come down there right before a big exam to wish for good luck – it was school tradition. Now she was wishing that once she was back at work with her friends, everything would be good again. She also wished that one day she and Peter could be totally happy – no more addictions, or flashbacks, or fights, or bad memories. Just together and happy.

When she rejoined her friends to leave the beautiful park, Peter gave her a nudge. "What'd you wish for?"

"If I tell you it won't come true, dummy," she teased.

"Fine, have it your way," he shot back with mock frustration. Peter took her hand and they walked with the others through the park, ready to start the long drive home.

**Please Review! I always love to hear what you have to say and there are only TWO more chaps left! Oh my gosh!**

**Chapter title comes from the Josh Pyke song. He's an Australian singer/guitarist (AUSSIE PRIDE!) and I love how nostalgic his music is - his songs Middle of the Hill and The Summer always take me back to being a little kid growing up in Sydney, lol. This one, The Lighthouse Song, particularly reminds me of how P/O guard and love each other in this fic:**

_So we are moving to a lighthouse, you and I_  
_While seas drown sailors, we'll be locked up safe and dry_  
_And though our doors may knock and rattle in the wind_  
_I'll just hold you tight and we'll not let those fuckers in_


	27. Birth

**Second-last chapter! Oh my gosh!**

**References: "That's sweet" (Firefly), "I want to know what that feels like" (6B), being vulnerable (6B), Olivia blowing Rachael a kiss (Bound), Peter's description of Olivia (Over There: Part 2), Ella J. (Bad Dreams)**

"It's bloody hot in here," Peter muttered on the drive back to Boston from New York. Olivia was driving as Peter took off his shirt, leaving him in just a white wifebeater and jeans. She gulped and struggled to keep her eyes on the road. She had always thought he looked good in wifebeaters – they showed off his arms and his chest. Peter wasn't extremely built or anything, but he had a nice tone to the muscles there. The sight sent butterflies through her stomach and made her blush. Peter caught her and smirked. "Babe, I know I'm hot, but seriously, stop staring before you get us both killed," he teased.

She rolled her eyes and looked back to the road. He smirked again as he noticed that she was gripping the steering wheel just a little too tight and biting her lip in an attempt to control herself. "You want me to drive?" he joked.

"I'm fine!"

"If you say so."

She sent him a quick glare and he shut up. Turning on the air conditioning, he tried to get comfortable. "Did you have a good time with the others this weekend?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she replied, grateful for the subject change. "You know how much I love New York."

"You don't feel differently about it since you were stuck in a basement there?"

"No," she said honestly. "I still love the city – I spent so much time there growing up."

"Well, we'll be back soon enough."

"Yeah, I know," she said, smiling with excitement. "I can't believe Charlie's getting married. And I love Sonya, she's a sweetheart. They seem so happy."

"Yeah, but they're kind of young."

"They've been together since they were 19, though. And they were childhood friends before that."

"Huh. That's sweet."

"Yeah, it is," she said softly, falling into a silence.

He smiled to himself. "What's going on in that big brain of yours, Livi?" She shrugged, and he laughed. "Don't make me coax it out of you, now."

She sighed and bit her lip, relenting. "I dunno. I just haven't ever really seen myself as the kind of person to get married, but the more I think about it and the more I see it happening to people around me…first Rachael, now Charlie…I guess it just makes me wonder what it'd be like, I guess."

"What it'd be like with me?"

She blushed a little. "Well, we already said a few weeks ago that we were both open to the possibility of it happening. Not right now, but you know…eventually."

"True. Do you feel like it's something you want?"

She thought about it. "I think so. I guess. Maybe. I think it could be wonderful, but it kind of terrifies me too," she chuckled nervously. "I never really thought about it much before. I'm not one of those girls who always dreamt of getting married or something like that."

"Not even when you were a little girl?"

She laughed. "When I was a little girl I dreamt of saving the world."

"That sounds like you." He smiled warmly, pensive. "You know I'd marry you right now if I could, right?"

That stunned her into silence. Eventually she found her voice. "Do you really mean that?"

"Yeah, I do," he said sincerely. "But it wouldn't be right. We haven't been together for very long. But even in that short space of time we've survived more than anyone else I know."

She baulked internally, searching for something to say. "Peter…I just…" she stuttered. "Peter, I'm not ready."

"I know, sweetheart. Neither am I. I've got a lot of growing up to do before I know how to be a good husband."

"My husband," she repeated to herself. That was deep. It sounded ridiculous saying the word out loud.

"We're not ready," he agreed. "But one day, years from now, we will be. If that's what you want, of course. To be honest it's a little terrifying to me, too. I never thought I was the kind of guy to sign up to this kind of thing, but you have a habit of challenging me like that. I just needed to know if it was still something you wanted eventually, that's all."

She bit her lip again. "Peter…"

"Yeah, Livi?"

"The other day we were talking about this you said you could imagine what the two of us together looked like. You said it was beautiful."

"Yeah."

She shrugged a little. "I want to know what that feels like," she said shyly.

He smiled warmly, took one of her hands off the steering wheel briefly to kiss the back of her hand. "Get us home," he spoke softly into her skin. "And I'll show you."

* * *

Hours later the two of them lay in bed together, arms and legs tangled and breaths softly tickling each other's skin. Olivia rested against Peter's chest, her finger pads lightly playing with the small amount of hair there while he traced constellations between the freckles on her back. He took her hand in his and kissed the inside of her wrist gently. "You OK, sweetheart?"

She gave him a demure smile and nodded, burying her face against his skin. All of this was kind of overwhelming her. On the one hand, she wished she could stay there with Peter forever, and on the other hand all this talk about their future was making her nervous. Peter acknowledged that it was just an idea and it wouldn't be happening any time soon, but Olivia still felt like it was too early to even be talking about something as full-on as marriage. She'd never really considered marrying someone before. The only other serious boyfriend she'd ever had was Lucas, but things were always too complicated between them.

But just for a moment, Olivia tried to imagine the picture of them in Peter's head. Were they still living in Boston? Did they have a house somewhere? Were they older? Did they have a family? It was all a bit too much to process, just too out of reach for her to see. Peter had always been so far ahead of her with this sort of thing – she was always the one holding back. The whole idea of being that attached to someone scared her, but frankly Peter had a way of pushing her beyond her fears. She wondered if she'd ever soften enough to let him in that far. She worried that her apprehensiveness would stop them from becoming something extraordinary. Maybe she was just incapable of being vulnerable. She wondered if it was even possible for them to stay together for the rest of their lives. She thought it would be wonderful if it were possible.

While they were lying together in a perfect silence, her phone suddenly rang, startling Olivia. She groaned, not wanting to move. "I'm sorry," she murmured, giving him a quick kiss. "It's probably Broyles."

"Don't worry about it," Peter said, releasing her so she could answer. He watched as Olivia's face darkened and she desperately questioned the person on the other end. The conversation was over quickly. She hung up and gulped. Turned to face him

"What's going on?" he asked, sitting up. He could already see that beneath her tough exterior, she seemed scared.

She swallowed, not looking at him. "That was Greg."

"And?"

"We have to go to the hospital." She reached for some of her clothes on the floor by the bed.

"Rachael's in labour?" He sprang into action, grabbing his clothes too, but he stilled when he noticed Olivia biting back tears.

"No, Peter, you don't get it," she muttered, frantically getting dressed. "Rachael's in surgery. There's something wrong with the baby."

* * *

They'd both rushed over to the hospital. It was intense to say the least. Greg explained that something had gone wrong and they had to do an emergency caesarean. Both Rachael and Ella were fine now, but it was still scary to think that if the surgery hadn't gone as well, Olivia could have lost her sister and niece in childbirth.

But they were fine now and that was the important thing. The day after the surgery, Peter had to go to work to check on Walter, but Olivia stayed at the hospital to wait for her sister to wake up from the anaesthesia. She still hadn't seen the baby yet. When Rachael woke Olivia almost ran to her room, halfway between beaming and crying as she hugged Rachael tightly.

"Oh my God, Rach. How are you feeling?"

"Tired," was her young sister's groggy reply.

Olivia wiped away her tears. "You and Ella really scared us all earlier. I thought we were going to lose you both."

"I know, I'm so sorry, Liv."

"Don't be. I'm just glad you're both OK." Olivia smiled softly. "I haven't seen the baby yet. The doctors wouldn't let me, they were still checking her over. Besides, I wanted to wait until I spoke to you first."

"Yeah, I just saw her when I woke up. She's beautiful, Liv. She looks like Mum."

Olivia's heart nearly broke. "Really?"

"Yeah," he sister replied tearfully. "Listen, Liv, thanks again for helping me out with the pregnancy all those times Greg was away. We really appreciate everything you've done."

"Don't mention it. It's wonderful to see you so happy."

"You too, Liv. Speaking of which, Peter seems to be making you happy."

Olivia couldn't hold back her smile. "He is."

"Well, if he keeps it up, Ella J's gonna have some little cousins to play with."

"Rachael!"

"What? It could happen."

Olivia chuckled. "I think they gave you too many drugs. You should get some rest, Rach."

"Yeah, I'm pretty tired," she yawned. "You go meet your niece. They've finished checking her out so she's in the nursery down the hall."

"I will," Olivia replied, beaming. "Get better, Rach. Love you," she said, blowing her sister a kiss at the door as she left.

* * *

Peter was walking to the hospital when he saw something that made his heart turn over. Through a jewellery shop window he saw a beautiful engagement ring. It was elegant and uniquely designed, but also simple, just the kind of jewellery that Olivia wore. He'd come across it completely by accident, but he knew it was perfect. He took a step back and looked at the sign on the shop. It was an independent designer. He'd never find this ring anywhere else. It was so different and so uniquely her.

He knew neither of them were ready to get married, but he knew in the depths of his heart that there was no one else he could imagine spending his life with. He never thought he'd be the type to buy a ring for a girl but Olivia brought out sides in him he didn't know he had. Making a split second decision, he went inside and asked the lady who owned the place about the ring in the window. He got a good look at it and learned the price – it was expensive, but not as bad as he was dreading. They'd all received bonuses from the FBI after the Conrad case so he could afford it.

"Is this for someone special?" the owner asked him as she packed it up for him.

"My girlfriend," he said.

"An engagement ring?"

"Yeah. I hope so, anyway. We're not ready to get married yet, but I know we will be one day. I just saw the ring and it was perfect. I figure I'll keep it somewhere safe until the time is right." He knew exactly where he'd hide it - a secret compartment he'd build in his piano. He didn't care how long it took them to be ready to get married. He would wait for her until he was 50 if he had to. He'd do anything for her.

The older woman smiled warmly. "What's her name?"

"Olivia."

"Lovely," she said.

"Yeah, she is."

"What's she like?"

He smiled. "She's beautiful – not in a generic kind of way, but really classically beautiful. A little dark in the eyes, maybe. She's always trying to make up for something – right some imaginary wrong. Haunted, I guess." He sighed a little. "But she's brave, and strong. She's been through a lot, so doesn't smile or laugh that often, but when she does it's incredible. She's really selfless, and so, so earnest. She makes me want to be a better person. I just want to make her happy, the way that she makes me happy."

"You don't need to worry," the woman assured him. "You two will be fine."

"What makes you say that?"

She smiled knowingly. "I've been running this business for a long time. I see two types of men come in here – the men who are buying rings just to keep their girlfriends happy, and the men who genuinely love them far more than what any ring is worth. It's obvious which side you fall on, young man."

He didn't know what to say to that. He just smiled gratefully and nodded.

"Would you like anything engraved on the inside of the ring?"

"Yes, please."

"What message would you like?"

He didn't even have to think about it.

_Because you belong with me_

* * *

Peter later went to the hospital to find Olivia in the nursery, watching the babies sleep through a glass panel. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her cheek. "Here you are. How are you?"

She twisted back to beam at him, the most adorable smile on her face. "I'm in love with my niece," she gushed. "It's like before this she was just a concept but now she's this tiny person that I can see and touch and it's exhilarating."

Peter laughed. "You're cute when you're so smitten."

"Shut up! I've never had a niece before. This is a big deal."

"Which one is she?"

"Over there," she pointed. "Ella Justine Corrie."

"Wow… Hold on - Justine?"

"They let me pick her middle name as a thank-you for looking after Rach while Greg was working," Olivia explained. "Justine was practically a little sister to me after everything that happened. It just felt right. Rachael's already calling her Ella J."

He smiled down at her. "It's good to see you so happy."

"I am. And I'm so proud of Rachael. She'll be a great mum."

"So will you. One day."

She laughed. "Me?"

"Haven't you ever thought about it? Having kids?"

"Not really. I've only just turned 24." She paused for a moment. "Have you ever thought about it?"

"Honestly? Never. Until right now," he replied honestly, wrapping his arms a little tighter around her. "I don't know. Just being here with you, in the middle of all this…I guess it's just making me think."

She smiled earnestly, reaching up to touch his cheek as his chin rested on her shoulder. "You'd be a good father," she said with certainty. "A real Dad, not just a guy with a kid."

Peter scoffed and shook his head. "I don't know about that. I didn't exactly have the best example growing up."

"No, I think you'd be really great. I know you've made a lot of mistakes, but you step up when it counts."

"I learned how to do that from you," he said. "You gave me someone to step up for."

"I learned a lot from you too," she confessed. "I learned how to let someone love me. I owe you a lot for that." She kissed him softly and looked back to Ella, her smile growing. "She's amazing," she sighed.

"Look at you! Proud aunt and everything," Peter teased, tickling her a bit. "That little girl's gonna be so loved."

"I know. Rachael probably wants me to be a tough aunt but I'm sure I'll just end up spoiling her."

"She's going to love you to pieces too, you know."

"I hope so."

Rachael's nurse saw Olivia standing at the window and approached her and Peter. "Hello, Olivia. Would you like to go in and sit with Ella?"

"We can do that?"

"As long as I supervise you, it's no problem. Come on through," she said kindly, leading them into the nursery through rows of babies until they found Ella. She was even more stunning up close – brown hair, blue-grey eyes, a cute little nose… "Would you like to hold her?" the nurse asked Olivia.

Olivia became suddenly nervous. "Oh, no, it's alright."

"Sweetheart, you haven't taken your eyes off this little girl since you first saw her," said Peter. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just…She's so small...She's my niece, I don't want to do anything wrong."

"Don't worry, honey," the nurse said. "It's completely normal to be nervous the first time you hold her, but she's stronger than she looks."

"Give it a go and if you worry too much you can just put her back," Peter said. "I've seen you with kids, Olivia. You're good at this stuff."

"You first," she said to Peter.

"May I?"

"Of course. You're practically her uncle. Rachael's already banking on us to give Ella a cousin or two."

"Jeez, talk about pressure, right?"

"Here you are, sir," the nurse said, handing Ella to him. "Make sure you support her head."

Peter took the tiny, wriggling weight in his arms and smiled brightly, stroking her cheek gently with the tip of his finger. His smile was so bright. "Hey there, little one. Welcome to the world," he said softly to the baby. Ella made a tiny sound in response and Peter pretended it was conversation. "Yeah, it's nice to meet you, too. You know, Ella, you might just be the prettiest girl in the whole wide world. Well, after your Aunt Liv of course."

Olivia rolled her eyes, but she still couldn't resist watching him. He was naturally good at this.

"My name's Peter," he said to Ella. "You're Aunt Liv's being silly so I'm gonna hold you for a while, OK?"

"Hey!"

"Well are you gonna hold her or not? Come on, Livia, you'll be fine. Here, take her."

"But you're so good with her -"

"Olivia, take her," he insisted.

"OK," she sighed nervously, taking baby Ella into her arms. "Oh my God. She's so tiny," she marvelled, but Peter just chuckled. "Peter, stop laughing at me!"

"I'm sorry! You're just shaking so bad. Here, sit down, it might help. Try and calm down, would you?"

She glared at him and sat down with the baby, finding it easier to steady herself that way. Peter knelt beside her, making sure they were both OK. Ella responded to Olivia almost immediately, nestling against her body and grabbing tiny fistfuls of her shirt.

"See?" Peter laughed. "She likes you too."

"Wow," Olivia breathed, taking in the sight of her niece. "She's beautiful, Peter, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she's a heartbreaker."

Ella opened her eyes just a little and gazed curiously up at her aunt. "Hey, baby girl," Olivia said to her. "I'm so proud of you. I know things were a little scary when you were born, but you and your mum are OK now, and that's all that matters. You know, you have your Dad's hair but you look so much like your grandma. It's a real shame you won't get to meet her. She would have loved you so, so much."

Peter noticed the tears welling in Olivia's eyes and brushed some hair behind her ear in comfort. "You wish your mum was here, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do."

"I'm sorry, Livia."

"Don't be," she said, smiling through her tears. "It's just nice to see a little bit of her in Ella, that's all."

Another nurse came into the nursery and walked over to the two of them as they sat with Ella. "Sorry to interrupt, but you're sister's woken up so I need to take Ella to be fed."

"OK. Can I see my sister after?"

"That'll be fine. Come back in an hour or so."

Peter looked to Olivia. "You wanna go home and grab some dinner?"

"OK," Olivia said, not wanting to part with her new niece. She brought Ella up to kiss her gently on the forehead. "I love you, baby girl. Be good for your mum." She reluctantly handed the baby back to the nurses, finding her arms felt immediately cold and empty. Peter took her hand and smiled, leading her back out into the corridor.

"You're gonna be a hell of an aunt, Livia," he said earnestly.

"I'll do my best. You were great with her too. You're good at this."

He looked surprised. "Really?"

She stopped him walking and made him look at her. "Yeah. You're good at this," she swore to him, kissing him softly. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

As they walked down the halls of the hospital, her head on his shoulder, Peter couldn't help but wish that in a few years they'd be back here for a different reason. He could imagine it – her stubbornly refusing meds to tough out the pain, him getting protective and angsty with the doctors, the two of them finally freed from chaos when they held their child for the first time, just as they had held Ella. He loved the thought of that. The whole idea kind of blew his mind wide open.

But that was all down the track. Years from now they'd get married, have kids, and everything. They'd have it all. But after all they'd been through recently, he had to appreciate today. Right now they had the chance to be together, safe and free and without fear.

As they walked down the streets of Boston that night, he squeezed her hand and she squeezed back, smiling at him. He had everything he needed. Right there. She seemed to read his thoughts and stopped him under a streetlamp, kissing him fully. He smiled against her lips, praying that nothing would ever tear them apart. But after all they had survived together, who could possibly stand against them?

He looked into her eyes and grinned, kissing her knuckles and tugging her hand. "Let's go home," he said. She smiled and followed him, both of them walking down the street hand in hand like they were soon to own the world.

**Only one more chapter! Oh no!**

**Review while you have the chance : ) I'm trying to get 250 reviews by the time this story is over**

**Also, just want to let you guys know about a charity campaign I'm taking part in this May called **_**Live Below the Line**_**. Around 1.4 Billion people around the world live in extreme poverty, which the World Bank defines as living on less than $1.25 US ($2 AUS or 1 pound UK) a day. The challenge of **_**Live Below the Line**_** is to live on no more than $1.25 US worth of food each day for a whole week. It's a great way to gain perspective and raise awareness, and people sponsor you so all the donations go to the Global Poverty Project or the Oaktree Foundation. I really encourage you to get involved or donate to the project. It's a great challenge to set for yourself or even start in your school or uni. It runs in Australia, the US and the UK, so Google it and check it out! **


	28. Epilogue: To Build a Home

**Last chapter – oh no! : ( Thanks so much for being such loyal readers!**

**Here's a super speedy story recap:**

Peter and Olivia meet after four months apart. Rachael is pregnant. Olivia starts work as an FBI junior agent. Lincoln is her partner (she thinks he's hot). Creepy terrorists are killing trafficked prostitutes in Boston – not cool. Peter and Olivia live together as friends. Peter becomes Walter's guardian – he's not happy. Lincoln asks Olivia out. Peter gets angsty with Lincoln. Olivia kisses Lincoln. Olivia gets mad at Peter. Olivia's mum dies. Peter and Olivia decide to get back together. Charlie throws up on Peter. Broyles creates an FBI task force against ZFT. Olivia kills a man for the first time. Olivia tells Peter she loves him. Olivia interviews a trafficking victim. Peter builds a piano. Peter and Olivia sleep together for the first time in their new relationship. Olivia interrogates a seedy ZFT member. Olivia is given the undercover job. Walter dances to Stacey's Mom. Olivia and Peter fight. Olivia and Peter make up. Olivia goes undercover while Peter and the others monitor her wiretap. Olivia gets attacked but is rescued at the last minute. Peter misses Olivia. Olivia gets given heroin. Peter dodges Tessa's vagenda. Olivia sends Peter a message. Olivia gets taken to Conrad and is sexually abused while unconscious. The FBI rescues Olivia. Olivia goes through heroin withdrawal. Olivia snaps from the trauma. Peter helps Olivia heal. Peter and Olivia talk about maybe getting married one day. The agents go to New York to receive awards. Charlie and Olivia become FBI Special Agents. They all rock out in Times Square. Baby Ella is born…

**Which brings us to the final chap of "Boston" – enjoy!**

**References: Simon Says (Inner Child), tough mother (No-Brainer), caught up in him (Reciprocity), you belong with me (Over There: Part 2)**

**Now set in 2005…**

_Olivia and Peter were sitting cross-legged on the floor of Rachael's apartment while 18-month-old Ella stood before them in her favourite purple dress, playing games with them. They'd gotten into a habit of babysitting for Rachael and Greg every week or so while they had some time out together. Peter and Olivia didn't mind, though. Ella was always fun to take care of, even if she was demanding sometimes. It was a nice change from saving the world all day at work. They usually only had to play or read to her for a couple of hours before she was all worn out and then they just had to wait until her parents got home. _

"_Hey Ella! Where's your tummy?" Peter asked her._

_The little girl giggled and rubbed her stomach. _

"_Good girl! Where are your feet?"_

"_Here!" She tried to touch her toes, almost falling over in the process. She'd been walking for about 6 months but still fell every now and then._

"_Where's your head?"_

_Peter and Ella had been going at this for like 20 minutes straight. She was addicted to this game. Peter always said when she got a bit older he'd teach her Simon Says._

"_Hey Ella! Where's my nose? Is it here?" Olivia asked, pointing to her ears._

_Ella shook her head and laughed. _

"_What about here?" she asked, pointing to her knees._

_Ella laughed again and stumbled over to Olivia, clumsily touching her face. 'Nose!" _

_Olivia laughed, sweet and sonorous. "Wow! You're so clever!" she exclaimed, picking up her niece. "But it's time for you to go to bed, baby girl."_

"_No…" Ella whined._

"_I'm sorry, but it's bed time. You can play again in the morning."_

"_No!" Ella protested, starting to cry and squirm in Olivia's arms. _

"_Hey Ella," Peter said, walking over to them. "I think you've got something behind her ear." Peter reached behind Ella's ear and magically pulled out a small piece of candy. Ella stopped crying immediately. She was amazed by the trick and her hands went straight to her ears, feeling around to see where the candy could have possibly come from. Peter just laughed at her confusion and handed it to her – all those old coin tricks had finally come in handy. _

"_Yum, candy! Say thank you, Ella," Olivia gently instructed._

_Ella smiled shyly, then giggled. "Thank you!"_

"_You're welcome, Ella."_

"_Come on, baby girl, let's give Uncle Peter a hug and say good night, OK? Say bye bye, Uncle Peter."_

"_Bye," Ella said. She smiled and reached out to Peter, giving him a little kiss on the cheek as he hugged her. _

"_Good night, little one," he said. "Be good for Aunt Liv when she puts you to bed, OK?"_

"_OK," Ella yawned, suddenly realising that she was actually tired. The little girl rested against Olivia's body, and Olivia took her to her room to change her, brush her beautiful brown hair and put her to bed. _

"_Good night, baby girl," she said as she tucked her in. _

"_Sing, Aunt Liv!"_

_Olivia had to hold back a groan. She didn't like to sing but the only person she'd do it for was Ella. She softly sang Ella to sleep and kissed her forehead before going back out to join Peter on the couch in the living room. "Sorry I took so long. Ella needed me to calm her down a bit."_

"_That's OK. Nice singing, by the way."_

"_Shit. You heard that?"_

_He laughed. "Don't be embarrassed. You have a nice voice. I've never really heard you sing before."_

"_Well I don't normally do it in front of people. Ever."_

"_Well, I think you should do it more. It's nice," he said, giving pulling her close and giving her a kiss. She smiled against his lips as the kisses eventually grew more heated. But when his hands crept below her shirt, she broke away, panting slightly. _

"_Peter, we should stop."_

"_Awww, why?" he pouted jokingly with a cheeky grin on his face. _

"_On my sister's couch, Peter? That's a little creepy."_

"_Somewhere else then?" he teased, kissing her neck. He was just messing with her - she knew he wasn't actually going to sleep with her with Ella around. But she played along._

"_What, like her bed? No way. Or her shower, or her wall, or any other place in this house your dirty little mind is going to suggest. My tiny, impressionable niece is in the next room. She's not even two years old yet."_

"_Ella's not gonna tell anybody!" _

_Olivia sent him an assertive look and crossed her arms._

_He gave her his best puppy dog eyes. "We'll be quiet. Please?"_

"_Eugh, boys! You're insatiable!"_

"_It's your fault, you make me this way," he teased, kissing her._

"_Hey! Don't use me as an excuse for your twisted boy brain."_

_He laughed and pulled her close as they lay on the couch and watched TV, waiting for Greg and Rachael to come home. "You were really good with her tonight," Olivia said out of nowhere._

"_Yeah, she's fine so long as you don't feed her after midnight," Peter joked._

_Olivia rolled her eyes. "Peter, we're not babysitting a Mogwai. Ella's a sweetheart. She won't magically turn evil if you do something wrong."_

"_Oh really? Have you ever taken away her Elmo toy? I tried it once and I'll never do it again. She gets really mad. I swear, that girl can scream."_

"_OK, you might have a point," Olivia admitted, nudging him. "But speaking of getting mad, Rachael asked me to tell you something."_

"_Yeah?"_

"_You know that game you play with Ella where you chase her around like some big scary giant and she runs away and then you kind of start playing hide and seek?"_

"_Yeah, she loves that game."_

"_I know she does, but Rachael wants you to stop." _

"_What? Why?"_

"_She's worried that it'll scare her or that she'll run into a wall or something."_

"_But Ella really likes it. She laughs like crazy when I chase her. Besides, Ella doesn't scare. She's like her aunt that way," he said, kissing Olivia's cheek._

"_Look, I know it's disappointing, but Rachael's a tough mother. She's still figuring out how to do all this too, and we have to respect her and Greg's wishes. After all, we might love Ella but she's not our kid."_

"_Yeah, I see what you mean. Fine. No more scary giant games."_

"_Thank you," she said, kissing him softly._

_He chuckled and gave Olivia another nudge. "You were great with her too, you know." _

"_I think I'm getting the hang of it now. I've never had a niece before. She loves her uncle too."_

"_I'm not her uncle yet. We should get married soon, you know."_

_Olivia laughed. "So you can be Ella's uncle officially?"_

_He shook his head. "Olivia, I'm serious. I think we're just about ready. I know we've only been together for like two and a half years, but we've done so much in that time it feels like forever to me. What do you think?" It wasn't a proposal, merely a suggestion. He just wanted to know where she was with all of this._

_She bit her lip. "Peter, I'm sorry, I'm not ready." _

"_Livia, I know we can handle it. We've been through so much we can handle anything."_

"_I know, it's just…" _

"_Just what, Olivia?"_

_She sighed. "I wish I was as sure as you, but you know how I am about these things."_

"_Do you still want to someday, though? Coz if you don't want to marry me, I can do better, I -"_

"_I want to. Just not now, OK?"_

"_Not ever. Is that what you're saying?" he asked, unable to keep frustration from edging into his voice._

"_Peter, don't be like that. I do want this. I'm just not ready for it right now."_

"_Livia, we're practically married. We already live together. We love each other to pieces, we're financially secure, we have this great little family unit going with Walter and Ella and the others. What is holding you back?"_

_She bit her lip and tried to sort her words. "It's gonna sound stupid."_

"_Tell me anyway."_

"_It just doesn't feel right," she confessed, sighing and nestling against his body. "I know you're getting ready to ask me soon. I can feel it. But when you ask I don't want to be scared or nervous or have to tell you no. I want to be able to say yes with the absolute certainty that it's the right thing. And I'm not there yet. I can't help it and I don't know why. I'm just not. But if you love me as much as you say you do, you'll wait."_

_Peter sighed and held her close. "I'm sorry I got frustrated. It's just hard to tell what page you're on sometimes. And I will wait for you. As long as it takes."_

"_Thank you," she whispered, gently smiling up at him. "I really love you, you know that?"_

"_You may have mentioned it once or twice," he teased, and he earned a little punch in the arm for it. He kissed her hair. "I love you too, Livia."_

Olivia was lying awake in bed at night with Peter fast asleep next to her, this memory running non-stop through her head. It had been a few months since that conversation. In recent weeks she'd started to feel a change in her attitudes towards marrying Peter.

She still considered them young to be married, with her being 25 and Peter 26, and they'd only been together for just short of three years (on and off). Still, she trusted Peter, and she loved him. She couldn't run away from this forever. They're hectic jobs took up all their time and attention, but they'd been through enough together to convince them they could survive anything. They were still working at the FBI together, investigating fringe events and stopping terrorist attacks. They felt like they could take on the world together, every day.

She could tell he'd wanted to ask her for ages, but her saying she wasn't ready had really staggered him. Every now and then there'd be a moment where the two of them were together – whether it was out on a date night or in bed on a lazy weekend morning – where he'd just stop and look at her for a second, and she could see the wheels turning over in his head. She could tell in those moments that he wanted to ask her to marry him, but he'd get stuck or lose his confidence. If she asked what was up, he'd just say "Nothing" and give her a kiss.

But lately she'd started to realise that she was getting closer and closer to being ready for him. It scared her and elated her at the same time. She didn't know what to think, so mostly it just kept her awake at night. Olivia grabbed some clothes from off the floor and put them on, sneaking out of bed. She raided the fridge a quick snack and eventually found herself in Peter's old room, sitting at the piano and practicing some simple stuff he'd taught her.

Peter later woke to the sound of soft piano music wafting down the hallway. Checking the clock, he saw that it was almost 3am and put on some boxers and his MIT shirt, heading out to follow the sweet melody. He recognised it immediately as something he'd written a while ago. Finding her at the piano in nothing but her underwear and his work shirt, he smiled softly. "Hey," he mumbled, his voice tired from sleep.

"Hey. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's OK," he replied, sitting with her on the stool. "Why are you up?"

She shrugged. "Couldn't sleep."

Concern immediately crossed his face. "Did you get a nightmare?" It was a fair question. Their jobs were confronting to say the least, and it wasn't uncommon for them to be waking each other from bad dreams in the middle of the night.

"No," she said, laughing a little. "Don't worry so much."

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Just thinking."

"About…"

She shrugged again. "Just work."

"Liar," he teased. She chuckled and softened, sitting a little closer and letting him tuck some hair behind her ear. He absentmindedly fingered the keys of the piano, jazzy melodies spilling from his hands like they just came naturally. He smiled at her. "You sure you're alright?"

She smiled back. "Yeah," she said, kissing him softly in reassurance. He smirked against her lips - she tasted like strawberry yoghurt.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Then what's going on in that big brain of yours, Livi? You can tell me."

She sighed, relenting. "Just thinking about you and me."

"Really?"

"Yeah," she murmured.

He gave her another kiss and pulled back to look to her affectionately while his thumb traced over the freckles on her cheek. They fell into a small silence then, just sitting together. It was such a calm, mundane, domestic moment between them, and yet it was beautiful in its simplicity. Olivia looked into his eyes and saw sincerity behind them. A deep-seated goodness. It was hard not to get caught up in it – not to get caught up in him.

And right then she knew.

He saw realisation spark in her eyes. "What is it?"

A tiny smile spread across her face – nervous and shy but so, so pure. Leaning in, she kissed him with a tender innocence and breathed two words against his lips.

"Ask me."

His eyes went wide in shock and he brushed some hair out of her face, scanning her expression for fear but finding only reassurance. "Livia?"

"Ask me," she repeated, her smile growing. "I love you, and I'm ready. So ask me."

The first thing he felt was total, unprecedented joy. The next was an enormous lump in his throat. He hadn't prepared for this. Being so caught off guard, he didn't know what to say. This whole thing was so spontaneous. He hadn't taken her out someplace special or done anything romantic for her. For crying out loud, they weren't even dressed. Then he realised it didn't matter. It was just the two of them sitting together in the home they'd built for themselves, and that was all they'd ever needed, really. She was finally ready, and all he had to do was ask.

She watched all these emotions cross his face in a split second, relieved when he finally settled for a joyous laughter and pulled her close, kissing her deeply. Feeling like it was the appropriate thing to do, he slid off the stool and dropped to one knee, only to have her pull him back up to be on equal level with her. "None of that," she said, kissing his cheek. "We're the same."

He nodded, wanting desperately to get this right. Reaching over to the piano, he opened the secret compartment he'd built years ago and pulled out the little velvet ring box, dusting it off a little. Olivia stared at it in shock. "Peter, how long has that been waiting in there?"

"I bought it when Ella was born, while you were at the hospital."

"Peter, that was almost two years ago."

He shrugged. "I'm a patient guy. I wasn't ready to do this back then anyway. Neither of us were. Besides, you were worth the wait." He pulled the ring out of the box and held it out to her, cupping her face in his other hand. "Olivia, you know how much I love you, right?"

She nodded, tears welling in her eyes as she smiled. The fact that he'd called her by her full name struck her – not Livia, or Liv, or Olive, or Livi. Just Olivia. He only chose it over a nickname when he was dead serious about something.

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for something that would change their lives forever. "Olivia," he started. He pronounced each syllable with so much love, but there was a subtly desperate need in it. "I can think of a hundred reasons why you should say yes. Because we're in love, because of what we've overcome, so we can save the world together…but in the end…" He paused, taking her hand. "You have to say yes. Because you belong with me. I love you, Olivia. Will you marry me?"

Even though she knew it was coming, the gravity of hearing the question out loud still threw her. The threat of tears stung her eyes as she smiled and nodded. "Yes," she breathed, almost laughing. "Yes. Of course I will."

A huge smile spread across his face, warm and brilliant and full of promise. "Really?"

"Really."

She laughed a little as he beamed and slid the ring onto her finger. It was stunning, but the meaning it carried was so much more incredible. She couldn't believe it was happening, and neither could he. "I love you," she swore to him.

"I love you, too, Livia."

She flicked her eyes to the beautiful ring and back to him, cupping his face in both hands and kissing him with all she had. Peter wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close as they kissed, completely overjoyed. He never wanted to let her go. He couldn't believe that Olivia Dunham was his fiancée. Soon to be his _wife_. The very idea blew his mind wide open.

She pulled back and laughed, her eyes bright with joy and shimmering with tears. "Oh my God. We're getting married."

"We're getting married," he repeated, barely able to believe it himself. It almost felt too good to be true.

Her smile became a little more reserved, and she dropped her gaze to his chest as her newly-ringed hand splayed over his heart, feeling it pound with excitement. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles where the ring rested.

"What is it, Livi?" he asked her.

"It's never been like this," she whispered. "I feel so much. I love you, so, so much."

"I love you, too, Olivia. Always. And I'll prove it to you every day for the rest of our lives," he promised, beaming.

They laughed a little, completely overwhelmed. The rest of their lives. That was deep. It was amazing, too.

Olivia looked to him. Smiled. "You were right."

"About what?" he asked, tucking some hair behind her ear and cupping her face.

"Years ago you told me you could see what the two of us together like this would look like. Do you remember?"

He grinned. "Yeah, sweetheart. I remember."

"You were right," she said, kissing him softly. "It's beautiful."

**The End!**

**Thank you to everyone who read this and especially to that special few who reviewed so frequently! **

**Some people are already questioning me on whether another sequel will be written to make a trilogy, but I'm not sure I'll do it. It's a lot of work to write and it's pretty distracting for my uni work. But if I get a great idea I'll think about it. If not, I'll always be writing oneshots and stuff for Fringe anyway.**

**I'd be really grateful if you could review not only this chap but the story in general. Did you have any favourite parts? Were there things I should have done better? Any ideas for a sequel (I don't have many)?**

**Thanks again for reading. God bless you all : )**


	29. Author's Note

**OK, I hate to admit it, but you guys have gone and done it again.**

**Yes, I'm afraid it's true.**

**You've gone and convinced me to make this a trilogy.**

**Jeez, guys, don't you know I have assignment to do? Lol, it's OK, I'll manage. Enough PMs and pleading reviews will make you do just about anything. Besides, "trilogy" has a nice ring to it : )**

**But I swear guys, this is the LAST ONE!**

**I've already started writing it. The plan is done and it's under way. Might be a while before it gets to you though, since I have uni work to do. But I can tell you that it will be set in 2006 and we will be dealing with cortexiphan, the discovery of other worlds and the highs and lows of married life for Olivia and Peter. Oh, and as you've probably gathered from my other fics, you should prepare for much sadness, angst and intensity. This is gonna be a tear-jerker, I can already tell. **

**That is all. Stay tuned. **


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